今天，用华语来写博客，还是我生命中第一次。说真的，我一直以来都蛮希望自己的华语程度能够比较好，但是力不从心（哈哈，我刚刚用了一条成语，不错吧？） 我妈妈现在正在鼓励我，为我加油，而我爸爸却因为我不断的吵醒他，问他怎样翻译某些字而感到烦躁。我本身是觉得这个过程有趣。
每个假期，我都会计划一些要做的活动，让后在假期之内完成。如今，我完成了很多要做的事情，但是却没有把这些活动记录下来。其实，有些想要做的事情还没做到，连开始计划也没有，但我想这段假期剩下的时间内， 应该不足。那也罢了！
（以上的那段话是几个星期前写的，还没写完时，我就已经放弃了。哈哈! 但我最终还是回到了这里，一心想把这个博客短记写完。）
我 这个星期天就要出发到中国，北京，了。怎么说呢？我对这趟行程的感受相当矛盾。起初我是非常兴奋，但出发的日期渐渐的接近，我突然感到有点敬畏。或许是 自己觉得假期还没正是结束，还没完成要完成的事情，的缘故，所以才会产生这种感觉。我也从中领悟了一个道理，那就是：时间是不等人的。虽然这个道理大家都 有听过，但如果有人要更进的吸收这句话的意思，那他必须亲自经验时间的至高。我就是有了这个经验。
我也就就这样认命了。人是不能控制时间的，所以应该尽量把握时间。想跟时间战斗，或因为发现自己不能控制时间而后悔，都很愚蠢。现在，无论情绪如何，无论多么想抗拒，我都要顺服自己，以免浪费更多宝贵的时间。
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Fail.
I fail to run my own life well.
For this post, I shall try to be very clear in putting my thoughts into words. I am annoyed enough to be write all this and not bother about who's going to read. For too long I've tried to ignore my problems and tell myself that I am learning to cope. Cope is a lie - to myself, and to people who ask me how I'm doing. Not intentionally though. Its been a while I've been afraid of writing, because I'm afraid of thinking and getting stuck at dead-ends. I wish life was not little, but much, clearer. Eventually, I become a weakling. Faced with a situation that calls for action amidst dilemma, my only resort became to cry/get depressed for days.
I fail, and I know very clearly how I fail so bad with everything and possibly everyone too. I psycho myself and pretend to think that I am learning to manage these failures by avoiding them and not thinking about them, to carry on life as normal (not as what is normal to me, but what is normal and very often superficial to the world). Yet I still usually end up looking for someone to help me. Sometimes these aren't people I ought to turn to, sometimes these people aren't really interested in helping me, sometimes these people say things I don't need to or don't want to hear, sometimes these people don't know what to do, sometimes these people don't convince me, sometimes I end up not wanting to tell anything to these people after approaching them. Most of the time though, I don't find these people and instead, discover that I should figure my life out for myself, and feel stupid and futile sharing my life with anyone. There isn't any thing I've done that made my life any happier compared to where it is, and there isn't any attempt that I've not regretted.
There's something I hated saying, and never wanted to succumb to. I do hate life a lot, but saying this doesn't purport anything, so it remains as meaningless as most part of my life. I fail.
I fail to run my own life well.
For this post, I shall try to be very clear in putting my thoughts into words. I am annoyed enough to be write all this and not bother about who's going to read. For too long I've tried to ignore my problems and tell myself that I am learning to cope. Cope is a lie - to myself, and to people who ask me how I'm doing. Not intentionally though. Its been a while I've been afraid of writing, because I'm afraid of thinking and getting stuck at dead-ends. I wish life was not little, but much, clearer. Eventually, I become a weakling. Faced with a situation that calls for action amidst dilemma, my only resort became to cry/get depressed for days.
I fail, and I know very clearly how I fail so bad with everything and possibly everyone too. I psycho myself and pretend to think that I am learning to manage these failures by avoiding them and not thinking about them, to carry on life as normal (not as what is normal to me, but what is normal and very often superficial to the world). Yet I still usually end up looking for someone to help me. Sometimes these aren't people I ought to turn to, sometimes these people aren't really interested in helping me, sometimes these people say things I don't need to or don't want to hear, sometimes these people don't know what to do, sometimes these people don't convince me, sometimes I end up not wanting to tell anything to these people after approaching them. Most of the time though, I don't find these people and instead, discover that I should figure my life out for myself, and feel stupid and futile sharing my life with anyone. There isn't any thing I've done that made my life any happier compared to where it is, and there isn't any attempt that I've not regretted.
There's something I hated saying, and never wanted to succumb to. I do hate life a lot, but saying this doesn't purport anything, so it remains as meaningless as most part of my life. I fail.