Unbalanced Vision

I still ask myself, what went wrong, what went wrong? I recall the arguments, particularly the last two weeks, or one week when we were not doing too well; I thought if I had done this, or that person had done that... I heard from that person's friend that he had sent a message of warning, 'We've been arguing a lot recently'. But why could it not be resolved, and went from warm, comforting hugs to cold, harsh lines? That person tells me he's changed, I've done nothing wrong, it is just that he has changed. Perhaps the arguments always existed, it's just that he was too tired to make an effort anymore. People tell me it's not my fault, or anybody's, but how could it not be my problem when I'm the crucial person in the relationship? I think all the other external factors are excuses, in the end it's all because of me. W points out that men don't usually like to complain to you about their dissatisfaction; they keep it in their minds, till one day it explodes like an unrecognisable time bomb blowing up your body. She also said that they tend to lie about certain feelings they've had, and are sometimes relunctant to resolve things--all I receive is 'I don't know'. Perhaps that person doesn't really know, or he knows but he's not bothered to tell you. The simple fact is that person does not love you anymore, otherwise anything can work.

Both SJ and M have mentioned to me about the power of surrender. To accept defeat is not pessimistic, but the act of bravely letting go and moving on. To not care about gain or loss, but allow God to guide your way. W also says, believing in God means believing that things happen for a reason, and you just have to be patient to see. But the last few lines she wrote about me being entitled to happiness, it only depends on how I choose to live my life. Hold on a minute, how can humans choose, but at the same time know that God has already arranged everything?

Iron tree

Ferry way

Frog eggs?

Thames barrier

The mighty barrier from behind

Cutty Sark pub in Greenwich

We left Falconwood Station, walked through Eltham park and Oxleas wood to Woolwich common, then finally arrived at the line of iron robots that protect London from flooding, the Thames Barrier. After a bit of an educational tour (including watching a short tacky programme done in the 80s style), we trekked through what I would call an urban wasteland of factories, cement, hills of stones and dust, with an assortment of smells reeking in the air; this is not the usual country rambling you'd expect. I enjoyed it--even though I am unhappy I still want to see what's going on out there in this strange world.

Husky

Having Chinese food in Twickenham

To cheer me up, the newlyweds C and P invited me to join them for G's b-day drinks + dinner in Twickenham. Through the couple I've met their Twickenham-based group of friends several times, and G especially strikes me as a healthy, sporty and sort of tomboyish kind of lady. She's also an electrician who recently received a job offer in Afghanistan, hum... We had Chinese in a pretty pricey restaurant, and then headed to a local bar. I was still in low spirits, despite all the people around me appearing in a relaxed, happy manner on a chilling Friday night. However, conversations with new people do help. 39-year-old P told me about her heartbroken break up of a 5-year relationship, and how she found her soulmate five years later. Another guy D who also graduated from UCL, left a well-known on-line travel agency years ago and successfully set up his own company: Midas Hotel Network. As an entrepreneur, he can wake up at 10, and the heaviest duty for today was dumping his garbarge.

Back at C and P's house in Ashford, I finally got to meet their adorable dog Tasha. I tell you, she's the sweetest and cuddliest dog in the world. Tasha isn't afraid or guarded towards strangers. She just walks gently beside you and let you pat and hug her warm body.

I still sleep unwell and wake up early in the mornings.

Light shining through the clouds in the afternoon

Sleepless in Ashford

K made a refreshing, alternative suggestion: stop analysing and try to perfect/cultivate the art of grieving elegantly. Because of my current state of mind I am only seeking answers to satisfy myself, to allow me to sleep better at night. Therefore, such an attempt to be objective is bound to be subjective. When I'm positive, I think on the bright side; when I'm down, I can only focus on negative feelings. Why not practice different styles of behaving sadly, savour its taste or try to act unlike the usual self (within rational boundaries)? The message is cryptic, but at that moment I sort of knew what he meant. He also mentioned that spending time with friends is a method to make one happy, but the ultimate challenge is dealing with the hours spent on your own. Everyone likes to appear their best in public, but who knows how they act in the dark.

K is one of the many architects I've met in the city. We talked about our research, and he explained to me how he implemented a quote from Whitman's Leaves of Grass (I digress: this was one of the presents Clinton gave to Ms Lewinsky--now here's another type of relationship gone mad, hehe) to his paper about Taiwanese beetlenut stalls--a strange connection, but it made sense. Here's the passage:

'Say on, sayers!
Delve! mould! pile the words of the earth!
Work on--(it is materials you must bring, not breaths;)
Work on, age after age! nothing is to be lost;
It may have to wait long, but it will certainly come in use;
When the materials are all prepared, the architects shall appear.

I swear to you the architects shall appear without fail! I announce them and lead them;
I swear to you they will understand you, and justify you;
I swear to you the greatest among them shall be he who best knows you, and encloses all, and is faithful to all;
I swear to you, he and the rest shall not forget you--they shall perceive that you are not an iota less than they;
I swear to you, you shall be glorified in them.'

Later on I told him my doubts about a PhD degree, and he replied with interesting stories about what he thought a doctorate meant--this made me happy about what I am striving to complete, and looking forward to prospects of the future.

In the throes of the recent event, there's finally something to be happy about: my little brother has been accepted to the University of Pittsburgh with a three-year scholarship, and opportunities for student summer fellowships doing field work--a huge financial relief for my parents. Now I'm in my second year, and with only one last year ahead I think things will only get better. If you think about Pittsburgh, you immediately relate it to the 2006 Super Bowl champions: Pittsburgh Steelers. Its citizens are apparently still dwelling in the excitement of this glorious win, and you just can't start an e-mail or conversation without mentioning it. Indeed my bro is thrilled about the result, and I'm sure he knows that the real hard work is yet to begin.

J sent me this:

After awhile you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats.
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child
And learn to build all your roads
On today because tomorrow's ground
Is too uncertain for plans, and futures have
A way of falling down in mid-flight.
After awhile you learn that even sunshine
Burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate
Your own soul, instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn.

The English weather surely helps

Back to Waterloo

Went to Egham yesterday for a tutorial. My poor tutor--he not only has to supervise my research project, but also act as a counselor. The session began with me explaining to him what happened recently and doubts about my intention to undertake a doctorate degree. He didn't interrupt, and let me continue. I finally said that I am determined to complete it; though the future looks quite bleak, we will make it happen. We set up deadlines, and I wanted him to send me threatening e-mails if I don't follow. Afterwards we focused on the sedan chair chapter I was working on, as he suggested some texts, pictures and different ideas. I told him some of the stuff I was reading, and discussed whether certain materials were tenuous to my theme. Finally, as the tutorial approached an end, I couldn't help but ask him, 'How do you cope with loss?' There was he, a reserved English gentleman who probably has never met a troublesome research student like me throughout his teaching career, and has to answer such a bold, personal question. There was I, sitting on the chair desperately wanting suggestions from a person who has read and experienced so much. The air was quiet for a few seconds, then he replied, 'We don't cope with loss. It is through loss that we learn about humanity and sympathy. It is better to come to this life knowing you have felt'. (I'm not quoting word for word here, but this is the general idea.) 'Another question', I said, (I have loads of questions these days) 'Are literature students more sensitive and emotional?' Apparently, the answer is yes: there's a larger percentage of humanities majors using the health centre counseling service at the college. It seems that we are doomed. 'I don't want to be grouped into the same lot', I replied. But after further discussion, I found out that we aren't completely hopeless. The process of trying to analyse and understand this mad, chaotic world is itself a rational and reasonable act.

They say that yoga helps you relax, the conception about balancing body, mind and spirit; however, the class yesterday almost froze me to death. The classroom was in the basement, and I basically lied there shivering the whole time. I need sports that involve more action--from now on, it will be just swimming and rock climbing.

Die in stye: if you want to perish the creative way, do a Lego Suicide

Blank pages: for those who like to 'look' at books, by way of Apartment Therapy

Recently lots of people tell me 'it takes time'. Here's a way to play with time, by way of one of my favourite bloggers, the crafty LJC.

Things to do other than grieving like a rotten tomato:
1) Told a funny joke to my flatmate in the kitchen. (Since this recent event, I came to know more about her: she's incredibly calm and rational, helps me with my physical and emotional problems, and her ultimate plan is to accomplish great things in TWN's interior/industrial design industry.)
2) Began to take notes again in my Tin Tin schedule book.
3) For last night's match we went to a pub in Paddington to see Chelsea thrash Barcelona, not quite. The gist: after that lame ref. sent off Del Horno (messy Messi's theatrical fall), minutes later we're one nil ahead (not sure if it's the Spaniard goalkeeper's big fat arse or Motta's that helped Chelsea). Then Terry's blockhead kindly repaid their generosity, great. Anyways, the result is there... though I'm a Chelski fan I still like to watch Mr Horse gallop on the fields.
4) It's ridiculous, I've started to take anything anyone says as a motto to life. For instance, the other day I was standing behind a long queue in the post office, then this lady behind me uttered, 'Oh well, it's the joy of standing in queues'. Moral of story: we have to look on the positive side of things even when the going gets bad. Bear with me, I will return to my cynic, self-mockery style very soon.

Chicken and mushroom pie

Mourinho: not pleased

Habits are hard to break. Today I slept more, but I woke up at 6.30 again with a deep feeling of loss; I faced the empty wall and wondered if I will ever find care and company? However, if we don't change our routines, we will never discover a different world. Because I wake up earlier these days to go to the ULU pool, I see sweaty, rosy-cheeked ladies jogging around Russell Square, whilst listening to their iPods. When I'm back on track, I hope to continue the morning swims.

The departure was not unexpected.
Within two months of my arrival, I had already met that person. Before I cared to know the new faces around me, we desperately wanted to know each other. London was a different situation from home: school was tougher, I was quieter at social gatherings and I felt like an ousider at times. Moreover, I didn't have as much time for friends, because I was always concerned with my studies. Deep down I worried that I wasn't at the same level as that person: he did well at school, had a good job that made him confident, loved what he does, this was his city that included his family and friends. Of course my situation was not all bad--I enjoyed learning and discovering new things, and I like literature, just that the readings was more difficult here. And that person was one of the most encouraging people I've met, always gave me good suggestions. Perhaps it was my day-to-day frustrations that worsen the relationship, because how can one be happy with a relationship without being happy with oneself? But were these arguments of that big a matter?

That person has not changed. From the start, even before the start, that person has always aspired to a harmonious family relationship (extended to relatives), wealth and success. Deep down I was so afraid to lose him, because at the present stage, even though I wanted those things, I was unable to achieve those respectable goals yet. Perhaps he sensed that I was focusing too much on his ideal life. A passage in Ian McEwan's Saturday writes:

This is when they give us a glimpse of what we might be, of our best selves, and of an impossible world in which you give everything that you have to others, but lose nothing of yourself.

Or simply because I felt that he never could give me the feeling of a lasting bravery, trust and patience to believe in us. Marriage plans were brought up but never certain. The likely option of starting a life together, living in slightly economically difficult situations but being happy together were not taken into action. He was not ready to love me enough as I did to him. Timing and status were never issues; true love is to be brave to give, believe and compromise for something great. Knowing this, on my part I have no regrets.

PS. This entry is pathetic and self-gratifying. Tut, tut!

Today at the end of the shop hours my boss wished me a more cheerful week, and to find 'unexpected delights'. OK, I suspect that he has been reading this blog, and it made me slightly embarrassed. Compared to the Tsunami, Philippine landslide and New Orleans hurricane victims, me awarding myself a trophy to my still bouncy heart is lame. It also reminds me of Bree's mother-in-law in Desperate Housewives who tearfully tells everyone (including strangers) of her son's death, whilst Bree remains like a stone. But holy cow, I was torn to pieces, and so my flatmate suggested that I can write things down every day. When I read the stuff I wrote before, I am able to think more clearly. Er, she didn't suggest I write it on a weblog though... *pulls face*. When people are sad, ones who can sing compose a sad love song, ones who can paint splash colours on the wall and call it art. I happen to be able to construct sentences so I write. Read about these crazy cases.

If you ask me if I'm scared, I say that I'm frightened like the mouse in your kitchen. Especially with the foul weather in February (today hailed thrice), my family and friends in TWN and other parts of the world and my haunting retentive memory. At times I still have this deep empty feeling, and know that something saddening will arrive and blow my confidence. I know that me feeling better today is temporary. But inevitably we need to face our fear. Today I went indoor rock climbing, and during the process I often felt that I couldn't make it. I fell down on the matress, and when I felt ready (which is not often) I tried again. I will continue practicing. Now my fingers are shaking as I write, but it felt good. That person actually introduced me to the sport; I really enjoyed my virgin climb years ago but did not have the chance to continue. Suddenly I thought maybe that person was like Gandalf that leaded Frodo-me the way through London, and now that his mission is accomplished, he lets go and tells me that I am ready to explore the city myself. *Blah, corny stuff*.

I realised that I have good friends here and everywhere--for some time I thought I was writing a 'little no-mates journal of gloom', but recently they popped out like spring flowers. A special one, my highschool first love, took the time to write a long e-mail and talked to me as well. Those who have crossed my paths have enriched me so; as I have more I will give it all to you.

This morning I got out of bed, barely slept, and looked in the mirror--my face looks OK but my eyes were tired. I smiled and thought I look fine. Instead of engaging in yet another MSN conversation with friends from the other side of the globe, I packed some stuff, put on my swimsuit and headed towards ULU swimming pool. Sports will do me good, especially when I'm not a pro and won't get injured from excessive training. I swam and swam and thought and thought. I still am too sad and sometimes loose focus. I signed up for yoga class, and happily got a reply from the mountaineering club, to which I can go hiking with them. What I desire for is human interaction and human warmth. As I walked towards the bookshop, out of expectation AB was on her way to work, too. I was so happy to see her; but I can't help but cry when I see friendly faces. She gave me a warm hug and immediately said, 'I'll meet you today at your bookshop after work, and we will have dinner and some pints of Guinness'. At the bookshop my boss was very encouraging as well. He talked in his usual style, words of comfort and wit; it was the same feeling I had about him when I went to the job interview, and then and there I felt working for him would be great. 'I always thought of you as someone who lives life to the fullest and thinks things on the positive side', he finally said. Then the day at the shop began as usual. He bought some cheap books and found unexpected delights, I felt happy when I listened to his discoveries.

Thinking back, I realised though I'm usually the last one wanting to end any relationships, I might have first already spotted some incompabilities, and used this resentment towards the other person, such as being grumpy or say mean things. a) I have set beliefs about various issues, but should I use my background and values to cruelly judge other people? b) Having these beliefs maybe means that I already know what type of person I want to be with, and the present person is not suitable. c) I am lucky that the other person was mature enough to tell me of the differences, and end the relationship for a better possibility. d) I might have been too inconfident about my situation here as a foreign student--but a confident person never shouts because he/she is content with who he/she is. e) I might have not been thoughtful enough about the other person's unhappiness towards me, and when he sends the message, I ignore it and repeat again. These are all speculations. But hey, in analysing literary texts written by authors who have died 400 years ago, we can only speculate too. We have to be brave to speculate and imagine.

I logged on to my e-mail account, and there was my dear brother's message:

'Dear Don:

"All happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." This famous quote from Anna Karenina tells me one thing, that is, it is the unhappy family's story will last forever, where as the happy ones just come and go. I believe that the break-up you just experienced could endue you a tragic uniqueness that would trascend you from normal human beings to a superior life form. At the end, you would be laughing at these so-called "happy couples" while relishing your personal success.

So take care, and your families will always be there for you'

I don't understand the quote, and I don't just want personal success now. But I am truly blessed to have a happy family.

Hello,
It has been an awful weekend--the worst I've felt since I arrived here. Eating is not a problem, but I hope I'd just be able to relax and sleep. The positive thing is the result is certain, no doubts, and knowing the answer I am to get on with my life. I had thought that I would never write anything too personal, but it just appears that you cannot be sure about these things. The thing is, I would do anything to make myself feel better, and writing has always made me happy. The sooner I feel happier, the less I would cause problems to people around me, and I especially do not want to demand answers from the person that has fell out of love, and part as a decent human being. Knowing myself, I'm not the person that leaves people. Maybe throughout the relationship I do feel there are times when our values/thoughts were different, but I always thought an everlasting admiration and solid love would make everything work. I had pictured a wonderful life together for a long, long time. But no. Maybe I should thank the other person for reminding me that there's more to each of us than us being together. I'd to rethink about what I want for myself and what the future can bring. It's a valuable opportunity, nothing better than this. My family and friends have been so supportive, and I need them more than ever during this period of time.

This site began as a thoughtful present from a person who gave me the best and made me the happiest. Though we will not be walking together anymore, and this feeling cuts like a knife, I hope to continue writing, learning and living, more than ever before.

Bugger, so I didn't manage to get inside the lecture hall; it was already packed hours before Mayor Ma arrived. By the time I got there, a large group of oriental people + a small number of Caucasians stood outside hoping that they could still get a glimpse of him. Hang on a minute, there appears to be quite a few Mainland Chinese amongst the crowd. I should have guessed; Mayor Ma is like a political superstar to people on both sides of the strait. I heard one voice proudly saying that he's a president hopeful. At 18.30, a tall, handsome figure wearing a smart wind coat walked through with his entourage, smiling. Gosh, he was so close to me I could even shake his hand... but was blocked by an annoying giant. Then that was it, as swift as ten seconds, with the disappointed ones left on the cold winter street. Whatever, when Mayor Ma and I lived in the same city, I never bothered about him. I turned around and was surprised to find my friend SM and her friends, so off we went for a nice meal at Chinatown. I suppose the Mayor might do a publicity stunt such as jogging in Regent's Park tomorrow, like he always do in Taipei. But with the pressure from China, his visit is like a breeze that seemed to have never happened.

HY and I left the house at New Malden around 8.05 in a scarlet Nissan. The usual sight of school children in uniforms walking on the pavements, or sitting in Mums' cars were gone; the traffic was clear all the way. Their fat faces must still be on the pillows, taking advantage of the half term. Outside it was slightly raining, and the driver has kindly decided that the umbrella is his for the day. At Raynes Park, he parked the car, whilst I walked towards platform 2. The train was crowded with sleepy beings, reading free Metro or their paperbacks. After arriving at Waterloo, we were then flocked through the gates, stood behind a long, winding queue and hopped onto the bendy bus. People still buried their faces in the free Metro and paperbacks, whilst HY looked up and murmured that he was feeling very ill. I got off at Holborn and walked to the bookshop. The ground was wet but not too cold. I finally arrived at the basement, sat down, took out my ham and lettuce sandwich and Saturday. The final chapter, to me, is redudant. Epitome of lameness: Daisy Perowne has just touched the intruder's heart with poetry, and saved her family. The middle-class remains intact, whilst social low life lies like a dead fish in the operation room. Oh, it's ten; time to open the shop.
My life is more hectic than Jack Bauer's, eh?

Purgatories of Weeping: Tears on the Early Modern Stage

One Penny Prodigies: Prophetic Children, Credulity and the Reception of Early Modern English Pamphlets

Bridging the Divide

Three serious topics on one evening. I usually attend the seminars held at Senate House, and perhaps leave with a few different perspectives or references that are useful to my research. This time there appears to be a rare visitor in town. The Taipei City Mayor Ma Ying-jeou, I would suggest, is the Taiwanese equivalent of Boris Johnson without the shenanigans (I hope). He's known for his presentable demeanour and sporty figure, represents the younger, less hidebound generation of the KMT party and tends to take the middle ground regarding certain controversial issues, such as the reunification/independent disputes--an incendiary matter amongst the Chinese for as long as I had conscious. I have a good first impression of his wife. It was at a public speech done by the then new Nobel Laureate Gao Xingjian; I was sitting at the front rows. Just when the event was about to start, a tall lady with a boyish haircut quietly walked in. Of course an official led her to the better seats, but she opted to be in the back. Later I found out that she was Mrs Ma. I recall that unlike most Taiwanese politician's wives, she doesn't really participate in her husband's election campaign (only making appearances now and again), and would rather focus on a career of her own. The subject about Taiwan's future sometimes comes up amongst Taiwanese overseas students. During one of my BL coffee breaks with D, he described a recent article in the Wallpaper Magazine introducing Taipei. The reporter asks, this city has the world's tallest building, a brilliant subway system, the citizens are creative and ambitious, but why can't it become an international world-class metropolis, like Tokyo and Seoul? The answer lies in the mighty giant that stands across the strait, and even this outsider is not too far from truth. Living the life of an expat and studying English lit., I lose touch of such issues. For a change, I shall walk to LSE on Monday.

To my delight, this week's The Way We See It website features my backyard, the peaceful little Queen Square. Using the word 'peaceful' just shows you how much I know about the Square. On some occasions rowdy drunkards might invite you to join them for a pint. Maybe due to its proximity I rarely care to notice what's happening within the enclosed space. Actually, the place is not really my backyard per se, but it literally takes me one minute to walk there. Whenever I go to the bookshop, the Senate House, the BL and the Tesco's across Russell Sq. tube station I travel through it. I also recycle newspapers and empty bottles at the recycle bins beside the small park. The Square is well-known for its surrounding hospitals. It might be convenient if I had some nerve-wrecking disease or were a sick kid, but seeing tearful parents crying over their ill children would not be a cheerful sight for the morning.

'Twas an unproductive Friday morning. I tried to rewrite some paragraphs of the 2nd Chapter, but the ideas were dispersed. Hours later, an old classmate announced that her wedding is taking place next week, whilst another friend pretended that she was getting married to a Korean singer, Rain. After much excitement led to nothingness, I tried to do some more work, at the same time daydreaming about how I'd use the 125 million Euromillion lottery prize. In the evening I baked a chicken that tasted like straw, it had the look and taste of plastic so HY was left with the leftover fish. Finally, I watched half of an uninspiring movie called The 40 Year Old Virgin, with a dull-looking leading character and a couple of his good-for-nothing friends who were only able to utter, 'Cool, man'! Oh, and my 1.50 quid lotto ticket also vanished into thin air. Enough of today, good night.

By way of the fabulous Dooce.

Four jobs I've had
1. Bookseller assistant
2. Comedy Store cloak hanger
3. Editor
4. Interpreter

Four movies I can watch over and over
1. Beverly Hills Cop 1
2. The Negotiator
3. The Rock
4. You've Got Mail

Four places I've lived
1. Taipei, Taiwan
2. Taichung, Taiwan
3. Boston, USA.
4. Cambridge, UK

Four TV shows I love
1. 24
2. Sex and the City
3. The Catherine Tate Show
4. The Office

Four places I've vacationed
1. Vals, Switzerland
2. Luxembourg
3. Venice, Italy
4. Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Four of my favorite dishes
1. Pork chops + noodles
2. Lamb + mash potatoes
3. Mussels
4. Beef and green pepper fried rice

Four sites I visit daily
1. BBC News
2. Londonist
3. Unbalanced Vision
4. British Library catalogue

Four places I would rather be right now
1. Taipei, Taiwan
2. At HK with HY
3. Visiting F in Austin, Texas
4. Visiting A in Maryland

Four bloggers I am tagging
1. Yi-Fen in Texas
2. The Cat Talks
3. Notes Above the Underground
4. Kimi in Love