Unbalanced Vision

Received some personal e-mails this morning, not the usual forwarded ones or the porn junk you normally get. Amongst them were three family letters:
1. A reply of my thank you letter to Grandpa Seymour and Grandma. He responded to my thoughts on 'writing honestly', an idea brought up by HY's colleague SC. Grandpa's wise words were pretty cool: 逢人且說三分話﹑未可全拋一片心 and 見人說人話﹑見鬼說鬼話. Hum, it's still better to keep some things to yourself.
2. A reply from Uncle Doug about NY stay. Oh well, since HY's shopping binge is cancelled due to me, guess it would be nicer to visit when they've done moving house.
3. Lastly, Dad's elegy to Grandma plus some entries of her diary. What can I say?

My dad said that the saddest thing to happen in the world for a man is to have him lose his mother or his wife. I think it is not good for me to be away at this moment, for not being in the same atmosphere I'm experiencing a different set of emotions--it is only when I'm in contact with relatives that I can especially be in grief. Mom gave me a blow-by-blow description of the last hours today, and from what I can picture is a straightforwardly downright cruelty of the human body, in fact not just any body, but a body that you have close relations with. I would be traumatised if I were there to witness the whole process. It made me think of King Lear's clothing motif and how we are all stripped down to nudity in the end.

Found a huge bee bathing in our toilet, was going to flush it down but C and K had better ideas--to keep it there and scare the other girls. Hehe!
Walking back home from tute and realised that I have tons of work to do under teasingly nice weather, feel absolutely splendid apart from being unable to participate in the drinking season. Plus three weeks has elapsed and application thingy is still moving from progress nil to 0.1, urgh!

Summer is here and woe is me: Am selling my body and soul by taking part in a study on 'the effect of silicon on bone health'. The downside of it is that no liqour consumption allowed for 3 months and have to fast on a certain day after 10pm for some hours; the upside is knowing that my urine may worth 100 pounds. In addition, I might be selected in the experiment group of the project which requires me to drink non-alcohol beer. According to S's knowledge, there are basically two groups, one drinking standard beer, the other the non-alcohol one. Usually if one person in the non-alcohol beer group convinces him/herself that h/she is drunk, the others will get just as boisterous. Amazing... couched in modern terms it's similar to the 'placebo effect', in which faith in the pill may achieve remarkable results for the patient (as sadly when I'm ill, I somehow always feel 50% better on my way to the doctor's)--an example of the power of man's mind. Another interesting idea of the mind, as when one's mind is set, the use of supernatural forces or superstition is only secondary:
"... there is no evidence that would-be rebels were deterred from making their attempts by an unfavourable prognostication. On the contrary they seem to have clutched at every straw which might seem to justify them in pursuing the path upon which they already set. The man who has to toss a coin to gain support for some desired plan is unlikely to be deterred by an unfavourable result. He will toss again, or look for some other method of confirming his originial purpose".
Keith Thomas

C, "HY, try to move your right hand to the green hold".

Was wondering why there's this recent media hype about mountaineering and Mt. Everest--front page footage of youngest person to reach the summit, article on the enthralling mountain literature genre (mind you, if that could be counted as a genre, then maybe so could food-lit. or toilet-lit.?) and bits and pieces of info. about outdoor gear that are building their own sales empire, etc. Oh, so today's the 50th anniversary when Everest was scaled for the first time. Moi has finally seemed a mite recovered from the virgin climb a couple of days ago, and though it's nothing worth celebrating about--no thin air or freaky snow storms--the fear factor of not trusting the objects that are there to support you and your physical strength is always not as cooperative as your mind strength makes it all a thrilling experience. Certainly sweat is de rigueur these days; an intriguing presentation of one's body fluid as both the middle-class and labour workers' asset. And to top it off, who doesn't fancy looking down at everyone else, gaining a fresher sublime vision of the world at height? However, if you do fall, remember to get up with grace.

Grandma's lesson of God to my brother A-li

"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery".
Donne

Grandma is fast asleep now. While she was awake, she was indeed an elegant, educated and well-mannered old lady with good taste, and for the most part, Grandma liked to think of herself that way--so adorably proud. She cared how she was presented in public and liked to compare with the other nannies. Of course, when looking at the photos she showed me, I was smart enough to say that she was the fairest of them all, and honestly, she was. Since learning her death, I have been trying to recall some moments we've spent together. There was once when my parents were away (as those party animals often are), my grandparents stayed over and took care of us. A mouse would sneak into our house while everyone was asleep and that totally scared the hell out of me. Therefore, Grandma wrote a letter in polite Japanese to Mr. Mouse on a piece of flat wood, and placed it behind the back door. I remembered the mouse never paid visit again. And once during her stay, I asked her to make friends with another Nanny across the street. After her friendly visit, I asked Grandma how it went, she quipped, "We don't get along very well; she's not as educated as I am". So this is how it feels to have a member of the family sleeping soundly forever. I don't intend to cry buckets of tears or be sad 24/7, because honestly, when I think of her it was quite a sweet and warmish feeling. I felt proud to have her as my grandma. Without a formal ceremony, I have the freedom to think of her in my own way here.

I accidentally received an e-mail this morning from one of our department PhD students. The personal letter about her love life was meant to be sent to a close friend, instead it tragically ended up in all of the mailboxes included in the newsgroup list. (must be careful with those group mailing lists) She must be terribly mortified, as I would feel so if my feelings for a significant other was known by random people. However, after reading her letter (not being nosy for it was right there), I realised that it has been a while since I've spoken tête-à-tête to close friends, as they were either back home or in the States. Or else I didn't have the urge to share my immediate thoughts about love with another person; I guess if they were around it would be different, though. Secondly, she confessed, "Good feelings, full of caring and love, but scary too... scary in the sense of realizing that you need and want this person in your life as much as possible... that you do feel completed at times when you are with them... that you want the very best for their happiness..." A beautiful feeling, yet scary at the same time. I wonder if it's long-lasting or just on the spur-of-the-moment?

Right... Quick note or two. Just watched Matrix Reloaded:
1. Reeves has no acting skills (is the same in every single movie) but he's cute so is forgiven.
2. Cool kicks can be done only with the help of Chinese Kungfu masters.
3. Trinity on motorbike is awesome, but her coming back to life scene was utterly tacky.
4. 'To be concluded' means more cash to be expected.

Off to Newcastle tomorrow for (Re)visioning the World conference plus Baltic Flour Mill visit (see how Heather the lovely hostess is going to treat me), whilst HY is finally going to check up his aching jaw which he has been moaning for ages--probably caused by extra large than normal teeth. Alrightie, see you London on Saturday.

courtesy of HY

Interesting tone of the article: Reminiscence of past works; current failed experiments, however, are palatable. I haven't been to the exhibition myself but definitely will as Newcastle travel lit. conference is slated for this weekend. HY, on the other hand, has been invited to the grand opening. With no place to stay overnight, he had the confidence that amongst the 3000 guests someone will somehow offer him and his sleeping bag a place to lodge. Of course, that was rather unnecessary, for once again this drunkard started drinking from dusk to dawn. Later dragged his weary feet to some hotel with another gentleman early in the morning (hum, sexuality speculations). Yet amid the alcoholic gloom, it was said that Gormley himself quite fancied talking to HY, and his boss who was also drunk at the time honestly confessed that HY is talented and creative, but slightly disorganised. The next day the young protege and his former colleague/director J (another mad drinker who impressively showed knowledge of Renaissance court masque architect Inigo Jones) took the train back to London for another drinking session. This was subsequently joined up by a charming and successful Irish career woman, her Ms. shrugging-shoulders adorable Japanese old college schoolmate, and two of their death metal musician acquaintances. So what does this random amalgam of characters have to do with 'Domain field' or the Early Modern notion of dissected body parts? I suppose it's the confrontation of collectivity and separation at the same time?

Don't know if it's the swim or the smell of clean air after the rain, but am feeling consciously very alive now--in a good way though. Because once you get out of the pool, stomach tells you it needs food. As K acutely describes, tonight's supper time resembled the chapter in Alice in the Wonderland where Alice accidentally bumps into an absurd afternoon tea party with three lunatics--nonsense dialogue throughout. S generously gave me two corns and half a Banger sausage (exquisite taste), plus my pasta and Italian herbs--dinner was yum. The freedom of munching on whatever you like and the ability to go anywhere you want, well, at least walk, jump and swim, makes me think of my grandma, who's recently only restricted to the patch of her bed. She's complaining why doesn't God let her pass away in peace? Whilst hoping that she will eventually recover, at least not in pain, death wish is a luxury one cannot afford.

Met up with Jenn and Chris on the last day of their Henry James young American European tour. The thing with relatives is that no matter how long you've not seen each other, there's always some sort of a bonding going on. And no matter how odd they are (not pointing fingers to any specific body), you adore them still. Haven't seen Jenn since 1996 on our family reunion Alaska cruise trip--we might be the only Asian family on board, not to mention the noisiest, surrounded by an assortment of white curly-haired jolly old granddaddies and nannies. Now she's going to be a successful radiologist in Upstate NY. Then there's Chris who looks scaringly more and more like Uncle Doug, and you can tell he's a kind and caring young gentleman, or just pretending to be one? Anyways, we basically went for Dimsum at Chinatown, two art galleries on Cork St., a 'distant-tour' of St. Paul's in my kitchen, and free Internet service in my room. Afterwards decided to go to the Comedy Store where they held an exceptionally longer performance for charity. Show was brilliant because sitting on the second row you could just run the risk of being insulted. (Have to get HY to sit on the front row next time and relish the experience of architects being mocked at.) Oh, and saw my first funny female comedian--Jo Caulfield--she's absolutely great. She's neither fat nor old, so don't see her making typical jokes of obesity and age. She doesn't go on and on about gender stereotypes, not too vulgar, but straightforwardly confident performing gags in a variety of subjects. In general, a lovely night out.

Weather here is miserable as hell. One minute you're encouraged to think the sun may just show up a tiny winy bit longer, then after a few seconds the rain comes pouring down. No wonder people here greet each other with grumpy faces. Quite the contrary, inhabitants on the other side of the planet are having BBQ and getting tans. Certainly it would so much better if the deadly virus wasn't there. A belated birthday shout to Fran. It's amazingly funny how only stupid things happen to certain stupid people: This gal got a fever (38C) on her birthday (you know how getting a fever is like these days), of course no one dared to approach her, let alone throwing a decent party. In the end it was her lovely Rick and some intrepid human beings who accompanied her with all-night Mahjong. By the way, guys, take a look at Carrie's indie film.

Watched O Brother Where Are Thou? with HY last night. Thinking that it was some lighthearted southern getaway comedy, the Coen brothers deployed Homer's Odyssey and some biblical references as the base for the plot. In other words, you might leave the theatre feeling like a literary dumb dumb. This experience was like reading Spenser's The Faerie Queene, which I felt fairly insecure without having a complete knowledge of the religious symbols that did not come at hand. Though tutor advices me, "Don't let the allegories meddle with you, and you shall not be meddled with the allegories". Hum... These words of wisdom made me bail out the book once again. Anyways, highly recommended film if you're not too drowsy and can handle the southerner accent. I, on the other hand, should pick up Homer again, especially when HY who claims he has no interest in classics whatsoever actually managed to correct my misconception of Greek mythology.

A visit back to one's old neighborhood may not always be a sentimental journey, and not necessarily with nostalgic intentions. The sky was drizzling a misty curtain of rain, yet with no attempt of adding any miraculous element to the situation, the rain stopped eventually after I arrived at Angler's Way. The owners of the house, God knows how many families have moved in and moved out, obviously preferred the immaculate white (bad taste I must say), for the door was once green. The tiny garage was still there, but paint was peeling off its door; The garden was green as usual, no flower beds however. I felt like a complete stranger intruding on private grounds, and the sign which read "This is a neighbourhood watch area" warned me to leave as soon as possible. With only vague clues of anything that should appear familiar, it was that smell, that particular friendly smell of our dark wooden fence which somehow brought back memories of a happy childhood. Sights do not tell you everything.
I don't know if it's because when you are young and tiny, the world that revolved around you seemed so big--now the house, door, front yard, and the slide looked relatively small. There was a time when you thought finishing a Big Mac was completely impossible. The time was static and simple, and long walks along river Cam could take forever. Or, could it really take forever?

After watching Wag the Dog, one should not be unfamiliar with the fact that American war always becomes an outstanding plot for a blockbuster hit. With sincere intentions, though, to increase the morale of soldiers and citizens. They've done a very good job actually: If you see the people they interview on the streets and the barometer of public opinion--patrioticism is in the air. And what makes it so convincing, is that like reality TV shows, the image makes us think it's genuinely real. Young chivalric hero Philip Sidney was also consciously being created as a national icon. He became an inspiration for later hot-blooded gentlemen to follow his path and fight for England. Though a person is sometimes made greater than himself/herself in reality, Lynch's story is phoney yet necessary in a time of turmoil.

It's not quite the same looking at the rising death numbers of your fellow countrymen on the Internet and actually being exposed to SARS terror 24/7. At first we make fun of trendy face masks and vaguely have an idea that the virus is restricted within China and HK, but when it gets as close as to your neighbourhood, family and friends, the fear is as harshly real as it can get. This fear seeps into society--the weakest core--even a cough leads to distrust. People are simply divided into categories, the non-infected and the infected; individual names are blurred down to numbers. And we must remember that rumours spread just as fast.

The article is an interesting observation of the phenomenon: Labeling, diversity and separation.

2003.05.01 中國時報
永恆的差異變奏曲
◎謝煜偉

最近很有參與感。似乎再一次強烈感受到，歐洲中世紀對待痲瘋病、
精神病人的歷史重現。
SARS牽扯到整個社會最敏感的地帶，那股強烈的不安與恐懼感，以及
所伴隨著，最原始的排除、差異與隔離，以及對「人」新的分類的出現。
其實真正恐懼的，不是那個事物本身，而是我們對它的想像。
民眾對「失序」歇斯底里式的反應，對「SARS」的被害妄想，就有如
過去面對痲瘋病、黑死病、愛滋病一樣，當人的同一性（Identity）開始
模糊，恐懼愈深，對差異再次界定的慾望就愈強；我們愈害怕染病，區分
乾淨的自身與染病的他者的動作就會愈強烈。
於是乎，我們隔離和平醫院，同時對未歸隊的醫師施以黥刑、拘提；
非難未歸者主因倒不是未盡工作職責，而是因他們是隔離的漏網之魚。隔
離無害化之後，再用濃得化不開的、近乎偽善的關懷，告訴這些「未染病的醫護人員」其實「你並不孤單」，因為這麼做才能稍稍維繫住我們的道德良知，罪惡感在施捨與恩賜的過程中才得以救贖。
但弔詭的是，看似接納與包容的外觀下，只是將原來（隔離／未隔離）
的區分，再度轉換為（染病／未染病）而已，那些在Ｂ棟感染SARS的病患完
全在這一波關懷與打氣的行列中成為被抹去的斷片，我們不自覺地轉變差異對待的方式，而病患依舊是被社會排除的一群。愛只施給未染病但暴露在「高危險群」的醫護人員，但「高危險群」依舊是被排除的他者。
而專家論述提供給恐懼的人們一次次對他者新的切割的動力，因為我們
相信機率再小也永遠不會是零；醫學知識告訴我們：只要「……」就不會感
染，然而我們對未知的恐懼也不會因此消失，只是潛藏、變種轉移到「……」
上頭。
另一個有趣的社會現象是民意對媒體的大肆批判。當大眾替媒體扣上一
頂頂沈重的道德大帽，卻不知我們只是把罪惡感集中丟向媒體，讓他們成為
替罪羔羊。沒有媒體的時代，人就已經學會利用差異對待來保住自己生存的
慾望；自歷史以觀，媒體又何德何能得以「創造」集體的恐懼感？
與其說媒體是台灣社會製造恐慌對立的亂源，不如說這些恐慌的情節存
在於每個人的心中。像是愛滋病患媒體少有報導，可是一般民眾對愛滋病的
恐懼感消失了嗎？當然沒有，只是視而不見而已。一旦AIDS患者出現在周遭，免不了又是一陣抗拒不安與鄙棄。
媒體再怎麼中立不偏頗地描述事件，事件依舊獨立出來變成群眾詮釋的對象；
而被差異的他者中彈後，社會只怪罪這火藥威力驚人，卻不知原來是自己扣
下扳機。
SARS不是單純的生物問題。SARS事件永遠是社會的、政治的。蔡同榮立委
將SARS「正名」為「中國肺炎」就是一個最諷刺的註腳。SARS將會改變台灣的
社會文化，就像現今還遺留著被結核病制約的文化反應。然而，這些引起社會劇烈變動的事件，就跟統獨爭議、高犯罪率、九二一地震等事件一樣，不過是社會差異機制再一次變遷的動力而已。如果沒有發覺到更深一層的社會文化因素，那麼不論媒體如何
被教養成報喜不報憂的大愛喜鵲，或者政府公權力如何被貫徹落實，都只是
一次又一次正反合辯證的重現。
差異不斷重現著。人們再一次感覺到社會的進步，再一次感覺到可以用愛、
秩序與理性戰勝憎恨、混亂與瘋癲。我們害怕認清異己差異機制的強大作用在於
滿足自己的生存慾望，於是選擇用再一次的凝聚來遮掩不安。但機制依舊存在，我們永遠有外省人、犯罪人、中輟生、同性戀者、老處女、外籍新娘、愛滋病患、流浪漢、流浪狗，以及SARS患者。
其實差異機制就像病毒，只不過它變種更快、蔓延更廣，它潛藏在每一個人
的心中，和人類互相依存。我們無法認清它確實存在且無法消滅的事實，反倒逼
迫著它不斷地變種、繁衍；當社會極力撲殺「SARS恐懼症」病毒的同時，卻不知其實這些病毒都是人類自我的重現，愈撲殺就愈興盛。因此隨著對SARS防疫知識上的進展，我們或許能夠更有效控制SARS，更能夠與它和平共存，可是醫學知識再怎麼進展，也不可能消除人類對未知事物的恐懼，以及隨之而來的差別對待、區分與隔離。
本文作者所學在犯罪與刑事政策，而不在防疫。不過聯想到我們是如何對待
犯罪者與SARS病患時，對SARS的不安活脫是對犯罪被害情節的加強版。而我也無
可避免地，一定會涉入其中，帶著我身處在這個社會的地位、階層與價值，一起
來看待這整個事件。無可避免又無奈地，我也會標示、差異、隔離，以求自身無
害。可不可能有改變的一天？先學習如何平心靜氣地接受自己一定會標示、差異、
隔離他者開始吧。

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Eigth Level of Hell - the Malebolge!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Dante has just banished me to the eighth level of hell; I am doomed to eternal misery. Just because I don't frequent religious ceremonies, don't belong to any religion whatsoever, treat Machiavelli's The Prince as the ultimate political Bible, and am not too judgmental towards hypcrites and the like, etc., hence am a thoroughly bad person. It would be nice to at least give me some credit on being honestly evil.

Today's Mom's birthday; and like every year, this day falls cunningly around Mother's Day. This lady grew up wearing her elder brother's hand-me-downs and was dragged to basketball games with him (though she never fancied tall hunks). She was honourably a '70s bayarea arts major--no drugs and free love I presume. During those student years, she would dress up sort of like a guy and go to late night movies alone. Besides all these tomboyishness, she was a fantastic cook. Actually, she loved to cook--famous dish would be the 'beer-duck'; no one has ever laid fingers on it and not say it's yum. She wrote elegant calligraphy, read vast amount of history and literature books, and enjoyed learning new languages. As a mainlander, she learned Taiwanese. Moreover, not wanting to waste her time at home while being pregnant, she took up Japanese. Liberal and leaning left, sometimes you find her retaining a plebeian taste, yet at times engaging in highbrow culture. She adored the weak and the underdogs; her aim was to help the not so bright students in class. For as far as I can remember, she never nags nor complains. Encouraged us to be creative and try out anything--but remember manners, always manners! Her mood comes and goes within an instant. Extremely optimistic and great problem solver. It was she who once said, "I can't wait for my kids to grow up so I can be as free as a bird". But even till now, she never missed any of our important events and we never had to go home staring at an empty fridge. Free, she always is.

Have watched the Dead Poet's Society for the fiftieth billion time, but last night only singled out my favourite parts to review, i.e. the moment when the then extremely shy and cute Ethan Hawk makes a barbaric yawp and creates a poem about the big hairy mad man, the time when the boys take turns kicking the football and reading out quotes, and definitely the last scene when Todd (once again led by the gorgeous Hawk) stands on his desk and says, "Oh captain, my captain", followed by the other young and fearless. I was basically moved to tears the first time I saw the film, am still deeply touched, but a literature teacher who only embraces the Romantics and ignores the Realists somehow is not quite right.

"Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams, And I'll show you a happy man".
Tennyson

Spent hours walking around the West End and Bloomsbury trying to sell unwanted books. In the beginning, this can be a curious adventure, visiting low-budget second-hand bookstores and have them check out your junk. But after being rejected by each and every poker-faced shopkeepers, and having to carry the same amount of weight on your shoulders, the business isn't fun anymore. Finally, Skoob pitifully paid 3 pounds for all of them--a very sad deal that is. After all the quality isn't that perfect with underlines, folded pages and maybe teacup stains.

On how to deal with snappish boyfriends or girlfriends.
In a case like this, do not panic. First, remain polite regardless of circumstances, then leave the crime scene immediately. Secondly, avoid direct contact right away. You are pissed so go for a walk or do something that distracts your mind. Third, after you are feeling better, diplomatic channels can be used again. Apology taken, then there's no need to stay angry; it will only do you harm. Note: If the 'snapper' happens to own a webcam, can request for him/her to strip in front of it if that makes you happy.

Last Saturday in the Guardian: Britian education secretary regards learning for its own sake (i.e. humanities subjects) "a bit dodgy". He honestly remarked, "... don't mind... medievalists around for ornamental purposes, but there is no reason for the state to pay for them". Ha ha! And then a bunch of (well, not many out there) disgruntled medieval historians accuse him of "pig ignorance and blind prejudice" whose concept of the role of universities is materialistic and utilitarian. Uh, I guess that's talking about you, Dad. Then there's this listing of Cabinet degrees--consists mainly of blood-sucking lawyers. three historians and only one English Lit. major (what can we possibly do for the welfare of our fellow human beings?). Am entertained by Anglo-Saxon newspapers.

Went to see a late afternoon Chicago musical yesterday. T'is a light entertaining show--with dazzling lights, nice legs and fishnet stockings, dramatic moves, catchy tunes and brazen, straightforward lyrics--quite fit for a Friday night out. I guess Chicago is better than the ones I've seen before. Les Mis was a treat from my suddenly cultured Uncle Doug. Only a few hours after our exhausted landing in New York, he dragged us to the performance--Overwhelmed by the fame of Victor Hugo's masterpiece, me and my brother were pinching ourselves trying to stay awake. Fell asleep nevertheless, and now all I can remember about the show was the gigantic ship props moving about on the stage. Then there was Miss Saigon which I find the theme rather disgusting--How annoying is the assumption that once people are introduced to American values they will see the light? The stereotypical weak Asian female (Note: Thank God she's Vietnamese not us Chinese) longing for the arms of a white male, and the black-and-white divisions between wealth and poverty, good and evil... Hope these values only exist during the Vietnam War and are far behind us now. This leaves the only noteworthy part about the show with the helicopter take-off, or was it landing? Anyways, there was this amusing American tourist wearing a noisy red vest sitting behind us last night. Oh what a jolly and optimistic character--giving his unabashed remarks, and enthusiastically responding to every single act. There was one time he actually belt out a tune himself. His famous quote said just before the performance began, "OK, good luck everyone".

The nerd (singular noun; our only token male Liam) and nerdettes have managed to survive weeks of Renaisssance/Enlightenment era torture. Revising for the exam and writing essays have already damaged too much brain cells that I have been boycotting any activity that involves reading and writing since Tuesday. Actually no. My dear former colleague AL virtually kneeled down and pleaded for help--to translate dull computer gaming reports for her company. Beware of the messages you receive on MSN; don't reply before it's too late.

Recalling on my little walk to Carroll Marx Hall was rather pleasant. Saw Alexander Pope tutor and Shakespeare poetry tutor (odd geezer he is) on my way--questions on Pope and Shakespeare both appeared on the paper. Then just before taking our seats, SD gave me this warm comforting hug while saying, "Don't worry honey, you'll do fine. See you in 3 hours". The right gesture at the right time.

Unexpectedly bumped into SR the neuroscientist in bar near Russell Square. I had this random thought a few days ago thinking that I might never see this guy again. He said goodbye to us in such a hurry and left for LA two months ago. I would picture this flirt chatting girls up, telling his not-so-funny daily adventures under the California sunshine--but there he was in grumpy old London again. Though we do occassionally have to put off by his strident voice in the hallway and only child behaviours, I do miss him a bit.

A Mathew Radford opening plus free drinks turned out to be me and L peering through the gallery windows with the CCTV looking very suspicious. Afterwards, decided to grab food--starvation makes everything taste better as the Japanese curry pork was the best I've had in ages.

Dissertation Anxiety Syndrome (Quite an accurate description)
論文焦慮症
基本上，正在進行論文的研究生們，常會出現以下的症狀：

1.做事老是不專心。
2.跟朋友聊天時會突然思緒跑到不知道哪裡，然後才晃神回來原來朋友等很久你回答
他的問題。
3.但真正坐到書桌前想要看書時卻又覺得應該先去上一下廁所才對，以免等一下思緒
會被打斷。（根本是無法專心的藉口）
4.習慣跑到圖書館去借很多書，感覺許多書中的內容都跟你的論文相關，但卻每每抱
了一大堆書回來之後卻一頁也沒翻過，然後在原封不動的在期限前還到圖書館。
（這就是研究生唯一的運動嗎？像陶侃搬磚一樣）
5.遇到朋友話題也總是圍繞著論文打轉，不過盡是些沒營養的話題，不是埋怨教授修改
的過頭，不然就是埋怨教授找不到人啦，不然就是試探對方寫到幾頁了（這只能用
於也在寫同一領域論文的朋友）。可以埋怨東埋怨西，但被問到自己的進度只能紅
著臉打哈哈過去...
6.然後，覺得自己怎麼變得這麼無趣，談來談去還是這個話題。
7.家裡亂得不像話，衣服亂丟，書跟資料也散了滿地，當然書桌也找不出一個手掌大
的清潔平面。
8.開始不想邀請朋友到家裡來吃? 滿A因為實在羞於見人。也不想收房間，反正收了還
是會亂。
9.上網找資料，結果找著找著就跟朋友聊起MSN來。然後之後又是一個小時過去了，
什麼資料也沒有找到。
10.開始覺得見到陽光的機會越來越少，當然皮膚也越來越白晰。
11.當然也沒啥機會運動，頂多是在家裡繞圈子或是利用去上廁所的機會。（好像實
驗白老鼠）

by way of NCCU English Department

So woke up this morning and found a piece of summer wear advice from Urban Junkies lying in my mailbox:

"There's definitely something to be said about a tight little behind peeping out of a pair of Speedo's, but all too often, they're too tight, too revealing--a tuft of pubes hanging over, under, or poking out of the confines of the spandex is never very appealing. Remember! It is always best to leave something to the imagination.
Shorts on the other hand, look carefree and comfy, roomy and rugged. Wear them low, like they are about to fall off your hips and someone is bound to want to pull them off. And lets face it, the best thing about getting dressed, is getting undressed".

Hum, so shorts it is?

Spent another extremely 'fun' day in the UCL library--place of infinite depression. After a couple of hours of reading about rape and male gaze, thought I bet head home before they drive me nuts.

Library ups:
1. Bumped into SD and N which was really nice. Good to know that you're not the only one being a super nerd. However, I guess it's human tendency for people to make their work progress sound bad. Dialogue as follows:
"How's work going?"
"I'm so stressed out" or "I've still got so much to do" or "I'm not going to be able to finish"
2. Eating packed lunch without getting caught.

Library downs:
1. Abrasive young undergrad talking on the cell phone as if no one is around. Would not tune down after mild suggestion. I weep for the future.
2. Books about rape and literature have all been taken out. *frown* Wonder who is as pervy as I am?
3. Another bank holiday next Monday--limited opening hours.

Certainly appreciate reading these texts under no pressure, but studying it just for the sake of a test is another story. On the other hand, I shouldn't be complaining at all because no one made me do a Master's, it was my own choice. At least I don't see my flatmate Shellie moaning about her upcoming examinations, and she's working pretty hard. Another thing, there's no one to blame for my staying up the whole night yesterday--was trying very hard to come up with a decent dissertation outline. The first half of the night was plain reading, then till 2ish I thought I must head for bed. Yet after minutes of tossing and turning, I just couldn't fall asleep. Luckily when the sun came out this morning, the theme of fantasy and exploration gradually took shape. Am actually looking forward to laying my hands on the early modern maps that are involved in this project.

London is having some really crappy weather these days. There's no certain way to describe the atmosphere, just quite unstable. I've always hold this belief that everything you think you are good at is due to chance and opportunity. Like if anyone else was put into the same environment, he or she could achieve just the same. Now I think this might not be true. Because since I had the opportunity to learn piano, I am still a lousy piano player. (Can't even use the term 'pianist') And I always had the chance to learn butterfly stroke but just didn't give it serious thought. These are the two skills I would like to pick up again if I ever have the time. Oh, must dive into the pool after Tuesday; haven't gone swimming since the last century.

There's still a big difference b/w getting in touch with your friends through MSN, BBS and e-mails and actually see them face-to-face. Especially after H and SY has told you this amazing story that happened after I left home. Makes me just want to scream right in front of their face.

OK, back to work.

Langton Close is driving us out during the summer supposedly for construction reasons. Today just learned that the student residence office has kindly offered me a place at James Lighthill House. Not too bad for an alternative choice actually--near British Library and in between King's Cross and Angel tube stations. (Means I can study and go to the movies whenever I like maybe?) Hum, fantasising about future stylish postgrad student ghetto... Should I win the lottery, these shall be in my basket: IKEA air, mac-london leather sofa, bookshelves, and definitely plants.

Back to reality. I really don't mind packing and sorting out the junk in my room, but thinking that I have to ask HY for help just because he happens to own a car, urgh! And all the feminist issues and principles I've brought up all this time claiming how independent and capable I am... Humpf, aren't you so proud? Guess I could rent a car for a day or take a cab, which would cost me some bucks and save my dignity. Listen up, I still am.