• We may call these people barbarians, in respect to the rules of reason, but not in respect to ourselves.
• He who relaxes none of his assurance, no matter how great the danger of imminent death; who, giving up his soul, still looks firmly and scornfully at his enemy—he is beaten not by us, but by fortune; he is killed, not conquered.

我突然想到自己會收集東西有時候是無意識的。

不外乎以下幾類。

• CD
• 書
• 筆記本
• 耳機
  (哈哈 很多人都會問我你不是有耳機了嗎
  但我耳機很容易壞 大約是沒有小心翼翼 還有
  我每天真的每天用。 用個三四個小時吧。
  而且我總覺得有更好的耳機
  所以胃口就被養大了
  
  我雖然聽不出AKG跟森海瑟爾的低音差別
  但聽得出來這二者跟鐵三角的不同。
  一兩千的鐵三角就是把你的心懸在那裡
  然後完全沒有bum bum下去的痛快感)
• 這項是我整篇的重點。
  我發現我會不知不覺收集盒子。尤其是鞋盒。
  
  球鞋盒都捨不得丟就愈堆愈多
  相機盒我也不想丟 耳機的盒子我也不想丟。
  總之我房間大概有十來個盒子。
• 而'我的音樂'資料夾裡的音樂檔，
  全部都是我的寶貝
  文件不見沒關係 電影不見沒關係
  這個不見我會心碎。
  
  
  我還特地去買很高級的cd盒
  把燒錄起來的光碟裝在裡面
  好像可以成為傳家之寶。
  
  
  這讓我想到nick&nora's infinite playlist,
  michael cera會燒自選音樂光碟給他前女友。
  
  我也常常自以為燒音樂光碟給別人是一種
  無價的禮物。
• 還有傑拉德有出場的比賽影片。
  我為它們特別空出一個硬碟槽。
• 另外，我姊和我現在致力於我的手環收集。
  因為我想要像張懸一樣戴一整排的。
  這件事搞得很認真 不知道為什麼。

收集啊收集。



最不能收集的就是人心啊。

Coleridge.


.......
Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,
Whose gentle breathings, heard in the deep calm,
Fill up the interspersed vacancies
And momentary pauses of the thought!
My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart
with tender gladness, thus to look at thee,
And think that thou shalt learn far other lore,
And in far other scenes! For I was reared
In the great city, pent'mid cloisters dim,
And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.
......





我注意到，今天，我終於注意到，
於浴室門上嵌著的塑膠玻璃，一幅昏黃如暮的山水畫。


我望著它上頭一棵黑色描邊的樹。



兀地想起，方才那柄黑色穹狀如同洋裙擺的傘。


它跟不上我的腳，我的腳也追不上短暫雨歇的時刻。



我歪曲擅越著道路，想要避開水坑。

腳卻自己找到了那些水坑，義無反顧地躍入，像自盡的魚。


這是生平首次不需擔憂一種想像，想像自己必得歷經消滅前的生命蒙太奇。


因為沒有人沒有車。



整條街上沒有人，只有我，以及那柄吹著喪歌的傘。




我不能奔跑回家，抓著那柄足以遮蔽各方侵凌的傘，我無法奔跑。




愈走愈慢。愈走愈慢。



我仍是趕不及了。




喪失一些東西並非災難，伊麗莎白說。把它寫下來。

Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned.




Yet knows that to be choked with hate
May well be of all evil chances chief.



An intellectual hatred is the worst.







Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy still.

不知道為什麼就是很難過。



我忘記太多事情了。


先是服務學習的事

聽奧

再來很多事情都搞砸了




我不知道怎麼又變回這樣了。


prof.謝佩芬 攻擊我的話

我一直記得


我會一直記得



會一直改正到每件事都是做到最好為止。




對不起 如果我使誰失望 因為我的健忘而損失什麼的人。



健忘和缺乏組織 這是會努力的。






但我絕對不會


改變我的走路方式和散發的氣。



那是我所做不到 也不會做的。

(這是由於我讀完某偏遠地區小學校長的信件的反思。其中提到關於大學服務性質團隊之「服務」的意義，以及這些大學生畢竟沒受過訓練，很多事情不是短時間就能「補充」或「訂正」的。有些制度行之有年，這些大學生，請容許我粗略闡述：「你們燃燒自己後，之後剩下的還是我們啊。」

看過這封拒絕此服務隊再次前往該校的信後，這是我掙扎的反思。雖然看起來沒關係。 但我想表達對於，人和人之間以及永無止盡的彼此誤解而衝突。)

◊信件原文請見「繼續閱讀」。


人在這個世界上總是得想盡辦法，和其他更多的人相處。


我感到，絶大部分的人都是不斷地反躬自省，卻又不斷想著自己。


自我跟他人之間拉扯的距離愈大，任一方的理智抑情感皆免不了受損。


舉例而言，我寫了一些字，那是我想說的話。爾後想到 --這個 那個 其他的--，於是擱筆。那什麼才是我們應該說的話？

我在構思上面這個句子的時候，何嘗不是想著別人？ 但我也想著自己。


我想著自己不要受委屈，別人不要受委屈。



服務者以及被服務者，二者心態的歧異實難以想像。

可是還是必須抉擇正確的事。不論道德、政治、情緒。



那麼「正確」由誰定義。


我懷疑很多時候的「正確」是由「接受度」取決的。

小眾的「正確」經常顯得偏激。




到底什麼才是正確的事呢？

「應不應該」是否等同「正確」？



某件事正不正確，參雜了多少個體的本質於其中。
原生人格是否於價值判斷中，佔了很大的因素？






我這生始終想要知道正確的事，即使做不到，我也想知道。













p.s

為了宏宇軒，我決定來作正確的事，來開 -回應 -。是。



p.ss

我也想知道知識份子，這種身份上的自我理解，和現實社會有多大多大，無以彌補的距離？ ...繼續閱讀

to pretend that we never die,


we live so hard, so strenuously that it actually seems we do not die.






but why do i need to live forever if life and death are only two sides of a coin. flip it, you live. and flip it again you die.

against the wind through the unsealed aperture."


until the world is a better place.


we have to keep setting matches to the candle.
until this kind of thing never happen again.

http://www.candlesforrwanda.org/

i hardly exist anymore.

i can be actually regarded as nonexistent in the new department i've transferred to.


it's not weird to be invisible.

i've always been invisible throughout my school life.


but this time, i've truly become a phantom.


the reason why i say this is because my registration number is still the old one i used in the previous department.

i keep the old number. 

but in this way, i'm overlapped by the same number that has already been in this department for two years.

i am no freshman, either.
so i practically do not exist.


i left the previous one. so the meaning of my present number bestowed by the previous department has lost, somehow.




it's quite peculiar.

i mean, the transfer students.

the situation is odd.

well, i don't really need a place of my own in that world so actually it is no big deal.


but come to think of it, it's just very strange that one wants desparately one's identity.




why do we keep trying to make sure that we exist.

"... I want to think quitely, calmly, spaciously, never to be interrupted, never to have to rise from my chair, to slip easily from one thing to another, without any sense of hostility, or obstacle. I want to sink deeper and deeper, away from the surface, with its hard separate facts. ..."

 --Virginia Woolf, The Mark on the Wall






i read some girl's blog about this article while googling.

it is not funny that it is a snail. damn.

i'm actually very much offended by her remarks.

jee, can't you see that those words (perhaps too many for you?) in the article are not simply her talking to herself?


so many words because of one single incident.
her trance because of seeing one mark on the wall.

how important it is, to have one's thoughts.

they are fuckin' beautiful. you CREEP!


DON'T INSULT THE WORK BECAUSE YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT FEELINGS.

DAMMIT. i shouldn't bother to be infuriated by her own opinions.actually.
what should i do. the world is in desperate conditions where everything must be neutral, must be taken less seriously.
damn! i am too friggin' serious. damn me.
i'm so lame.






notes:

"by Marc D. Cyr

Virginia Woolf's "The Mark on the Wall" concludes with the identification of that mark as a snail, this after several pages of digressions--on history, reality, society, art, writing, and life itself--incited by the flimsy ruse of an ontological inquiry. Readers have reacted variously to this revelation: As T. E. Apter notes, some, like A C. Bradbrook, have found it "exasperating" (54), while others have found the "cruelly disappointing" (Guiguet 217) or "trivial" (Apter 54) or "insignificant" (Gorsky 51) nature of the mark to be important to understanding that Woolf is proposing that objective reality is less important than the world of perceptions internal to each individual, a line of thought that leads ultimately to the idea that what the mark is "really doesn't matter" (Lumpkin 29), or the ironic Doppelganger to this idea, that "The writer deflates herself comically when the mark is revealed as a snail . . . (Gordon 167). I suspect, however, that if there is a joke here, it is on us, that Woolf, like Mary Carmichael in A Room of One's Own, "is playing a trick on us. . . . [She] is tampering with the expected sequence" (81). We expect closure, so that's what Woolf gives us-or seems to. I don't think the mark on the wall is a snail--or at least it might not be--and while it may not matter what the mark actually is, what it is not (or may not be) could matter a lot."