Blog: To release
Twitter: I can't be bothered
Pinterest: Likewise
Tumblr: For quotes
Instagram: For photos and sharing thoughts
2014年1月26日 星期日
2014年1月25日 星期六
Communication
I think that's the key. Having searched for so long the essence of communication, I think the crux of connecting with others is sharing. Telling others your problems, your stories and your daily encounters, and then listening patiently to theirs. It involves bringing your dilemmas to others to be solved together instead of wrecking your brain in desire to resolve the issue by yourself.
How did I never notice that?
Maybe because that action has always left me the feelings if I were troubling another, that others are uninterested in listening to my trivial problems. Who had time for others when they themselves were riddled with frustrations of their own? Yet it didn't seem so here- everybody is so ready to share their feelings and seek for opinions. Rather alarming on the level of openness and tendency to chatter incessantly, but still rather sweet and in many cases, helpful.
I've noticed how my suitemates, especially my roommate connect with others. She always takes time to talk to others, even in expense of her own already scarce time. They all share with each other little details of their lives, talking even when they've got pressing deadlines. I admire that, and I'm trying to learn that quality.
The problem is, I find myself inherently uninteresting at times.
It's as if I don't have any interesting stories to share, I'm not funny, nor do I have exciting conversation topics to contribute. Am I that boring? Sometimes I think not, sometimes I'm convinced of my dreariness.
I guess that's a reason I'm enticed by the art of storytelling. Just the idea of sitting around a bonfire, telling stories of our lives, or sitting in a library filled with people of distinct backgrounds and passions sharing openly their ideals and principles of life seem so inviting.
The definition of friendship used to be an indistinguishable goo in the past, but I daresay it's getting untangled gradually.
Soon, it shall see sunshine and the blue sky!
How did I never notice that?
Maybe because that action has always left me the feelings if I were troubling another, that others are uninterested in listening to my trivial problems. Who had time for others when they themselves were riddled with frustrations of their own? Yet it didn't seem so here- everybody is so ready to share their feelings and seek for opinions. Rather alarming on the level of openness and tendency to chatter incessantly, but still rather sweet and in many cases, helpful.
I've noticed how my suitemates, especially my roommate connect with others. She always takes time to talk to others, even in expense of her own already scarce time. They all share with each other little details of their lives, talking even when they've got pressing deadlines. I admire that, and I'm trying to learn that quality.
The problem is, I find myself inherently uninteresting at times.
It's as if I don't have any interesting stories to share, I'm not funny, nor do I have exciting conversation topics to contribute. Am I that boring? Sometimes I think not, sometimes I'm convinced of my dreariness.
I guess that's a reason I'm enticed by the art of storytelling. Just the idea of sitting around a bonfire, telling stories of our lives, or sitting in a library filled with people of distinct backgrounds and passions sharing openly their ideals and principles of life seem so inviting.
The definition of friendship used to be an indistinguishable goo in the past, but I daresay it's getting untangled gradually.
Soon, it shall see sunshine and the blue sky!
I feel so stupid
I guess it's a good thing that I'm learning new things here in university.
As my history professor told me, "Isn't that the point of college?"
I was telling him about my visit to the museum of history and the state capitol, where I saw ex- confederate soldiers step out in full uniform to celebrate their old general's birthday. He laughed, remarked on how they seem to be of another era, joked about the United States being the only place where people still celebrate birthdays of traitors and talked about the Chancellor's poorly written e- mail response to the athletic scandal.
Now, I am not a smart girl who is too informed about history. For instance, I know the the old confederate general Robert E. Lee is a hero, but not a traitor. What did he mean by his supposed joke? Nor have I read the chancellor's e-mail at that time, so I didn't actually know how to respond.
So I did what ignorant people do. I laughed and pretended that I knew.
How horrible it is to discover the extent of your limitations! Sitting in my sustainability class gives me that precise feeling of inferiority- why were these students so clued in about the details of zoning and environment related technology? I am still a layman's term user!
Journalism class is worst. How did they know so much about different companies and have so much experience in everything? Have they lived ten years longer than me? What have I been doing all my life? Wasting it on wasteful things?
Most probably.
Anyhow,recognizing my deficiency should be the first step to unlocking a larger realm of knowledge. There's no space to feel inferior here.
Just keep pushing forwards, girl!
As my history professor told me, "Isn't that the point of college?"
I was telling him about my visit to the museum of history and the state capitol, where I saw ex- confederate soldiers step out in full uniform to celebrate their old general's birthday. He laughed, remarked on how they seem to be of another era, joked about the United States being the only place where people still celebrate birthdays of traitors and talked about the Chancellor's poorly written e- mail response to the athletic scandal.
Now, I am not a smart girl who is too informed about history. For instance, I know the the old confederate general Robert E. Lee is a hero, but not a traitor. What did he mean by his supposed joke? Nor have I read the chancellor's e-mail at that time, so I didn't actually know how to respond.
So I did what ignorant people do. I laughed and pretended that I knew.
How horrible it is to discover the extent of your limitations! Sitting in my sustainability class gives me that precise feeling of inferiority- why were these students so clued in about the details of zoning and environment related technology? I am still a layman's term user!
Journalism class is worst. How did they know so much about different companies and have so much experience in everything? Have they lived ten years longer than me? What have I been doing all my life? Wasting it on wasteful things?
Most probably.
Anyhow,recognizing my deficiency should be the first step to unlocking a larger realm of knowledge. There's no space to feel inferior here.
Just keep pushing forwards, girl!
Wall of dreams
Thus this "wall of dreams" facing my desk.
It's quite effective really, when you're in the dumps and some phrase that you've got up on your wall reminds you to stay optimistic, have an adventure or face your fears. Nothing beats visual motivators!
My side wall which is decorated with postcards serve as another source of inspiration as well- I want to travel, explore the world and learn new cultures! How good it is to wake up to a world of wonders, literally, by your eyes.
The benefits of having artistic friends is this- you get handmade cards with exquisite art that you can show off on your wall. It doesn't even matter if it's ugly. As long as there are loving paragraphs of handwritten words, all value of a card is redeemed.
As bare as my dorm room is, I feel energized by all the love and dreams scattered on the walls.
What a lovely room I've got!
2014年1月21日 星期二
John Green
I wish I read his books when I was a teenager, rather than all those trashy teenage chick- lit books. They fed me such unrealistic notions of life subtly that I didn't realize until those miserable years have already taken their toll.
Those days when I was struggling with feeling different from everyone else, when I always felt out of tune with ordinary people, those days when I regard myself an abnormal freak who needs fixing badly.
Who knew it was alright to be different, to entertain daydreams, possibilities, questions of life and people daily, then wishing to discuss such issues with friends?
The restlessness of feeling nothing, thinking nothing, inspired by nothing can be tormenting. I regard that restive impulse as the culprit of making me lose motivation to strive but instead aim for an ordinary living when I could have had much more.
I imagine reading Green at those turbulent times- I would have been introduced to new realms of thoughts, exposed to poetry and quotes, my mind could have been occupied with thoughts of different sorts instead of being tortured by nothingness!
His books always seem to follow the arc of an ordinary character meeting an eccentric one, then they both go on a journey where they both learn from each other. Adventure, life's questions, death, depression and literature, always literature. Maybe I would have had a different outlook in life then, if I had read Green when I was young.
It's too late to lament about unchangeable facts of course. I shouldn't be ashamed of my past.
But one can dream right?
What if I meet someone as eccentric as Alaska Young or Margo one day? Or someone like Chip or Gus? What would it be like? Would they find me too mundane? I'm not even as cool as Miles who memorizes last words. Shouldn't it be great fun to talk to people like that? People who have such strong passions and strong personalities that they will never cease to amaze you?
Or what if I've already met such people in my life? I like to think so. I certainly have a few friends who possess unique characters and memorable traits as well as good taste in art.
Maybe they're my Alaska?
Or maybe I'm their Miles?
I'd like to think so.
A friend once called me eccentric, and I was secretly overjoyed to being assigned that adjective. Call me ordinary and I'd feel offended.
How vain and conceited I am! Desperately clinging on to that little bit of distinction between myself and others to prove that I am unique, I am special, I am different. A defense mechanism to protect myself from the prickly truth.
The more I convince myself that I am different, the more I find myself mundane.
I shan't wreck my mind pondering upon all those vain and meaningless thoughts now. A professor once taught me to be "unapologetically yourself".
So that's what I'll be. Unapologetically myself.
Those days when I was struggling with feeling different from everyone else, when I always felt out of tune with ordinary people, those days when I regard myself an abnormal freak who needs fixing badly.
Who knew it was alright to be different, to entertain daydreams, possibilities, questions of life and people daily, then wishing to discuss such issues with friends?
The restlessness of feeling nothing, thinking nothing, inspired by nothing can be tormenting. I regard that restive impulse as the culprit of making me lose motivation to strive but instead aim for an ordinary living when I could have had much more.
I imagine reading Green at those turbulent times- I would have been introduced to new realms of thoughts, exposed to poetry and quotes, my mind could have been occupied with thoughts of different sorts instead of being tortured by nothingness!
His books always seem to follow the arc of an ordinary character meeting an eccentric one, then they both go on a journey where they both learn from each other. Adventure, life's questions, death, depression and literature, always literature. Maybe I would have had a different outlook in life then, if I had read Green when I was young.
It's too late to lament about unchangeable facts of course. I shouldn't be ashamed of my past.
But one can dream right?
What if I meet someone as eccentric as Alaska Young or Margo one day? Or someone like Chip or Gus? What would it be like? Would they find me too mundane? I'm not even as cool as Miles who memorizes last words. Shouldn't it be great fun to talk to people like that? People who have such strong passions and strong personalities that they will never cease to amaze you?
Or what if I've already met such people in my life? I like to think so. I certainly have a few friends who possess unique characters and memorable traits as well as good taste in art.
Maybe they're my Alaska?
Or maybe I'm their Miles?
I'd like to think so.
A friend once called me eccentric, and I was secretly overjoyed to being assigned that adjective. Call me ordinary and I'd feel offended.
How vain and conceited I am! Desperately clinging on to that little bit of distinction between myself and others to prove that I am unique, I am special, I am different. A defense mechanism to protect myself from the prickly truth.
The more I convince myself that I am different, the more I find myself mundane.
I shan't wreck my mind pondering upon all those vain and meaningless thoughts now. A professor once taught me to be "unapologetically yourself".
So that's what I'll be. Unapologetically myself.
2014年1月20日 星期一
Organize!
Finally! My idea is half- baked, but ready to be formed into a pitch. Where and how should I start? This is the struggle for me whenever I write anything. The lead is where I expend most of my energy, wrecking my brain to produce an interesting lead. Without a good lead, my article will never be out of the oven.
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