When I was very young, nothing really mattered to me.

-- Madonna, 1998

I come to the world!

I am not lonely. But sometimes I like to play paper boats beside a puddle alone. I like to watch the boat floating around. I do not know what I am thinking when the world is myself only.

I am thinking for what people live. But I get no answer.

I do not like sitting in the classroom at all. From time to time I do not go to class. The longest truancy lasts more than one month. I linger around bus stations, railway side, everywhere but the school. I am afraid of being caught by anyone familiar. In contrary, even a cute pebble can accompany me a whole day.

I do not know what I am thinking when the world is not only myself.

I do not know where I should go, but I want to change an environment--go to the United States.

I have things to do everyday. I have schedule. But I have no courage to think what I am doing. So I don not think.

These winter nights, I lie awake, long after the campus is sleeping, and I look up at the stars, over and over, and wonder: "Why are you here? What are you competing for?" Not for TA, RA, or fellowship, certainly. For money is dirty business and I do not like dirt.

Win or loss, I lose the same.

After monthes' frustrating applying procedure, I am almost exhausted. I just want to have a rest. I can think of nothing else, neither tests nor applications, nor money nor the future. Later, I will fight again and tell others of the strategy, steps, and skill, of boasting and waiting, but not now--when the strong are coming through and the weak are winnowed out. Let it be. Perhaps the darkest hour is that before the dawn.

Who knows.

In the midnight four boys sing at the sidewalk in front of the Bldg. XX, playing guitar. The singers look passionate but blue. Several girls join them. That the audiences are moved is evident, for there is no sound except the music. The night is dark, and the songs are saddeningly evocative. I know my heart is also captured. How can one keep apathy towards a beautiful time that is going? Yes, a time that is going. When you finish the last exam, do you know you are no longer a student? When you step into the office, do you know you are going to stand on a new stage? When your career shifts without being noticed, do you have a feeling of lose, and can you keep serene as before?

Hesitation begins when I am able to go to the United States. For what I long for is an idyllic life full of meaningless illusions. But no one guarantees me such a life in USA. Actually, when I was trying to get financial aids, I asked myself: "Do you really want to go to the USA? Now??" I don't know how to answer myself. Going abroad is a way but not the end. Even before I got the financial aid, I had been thinking: "To go, or not to go?"

I don't want to go. But I have 'promise to keep, and miles to go before I sleep'.

Friends are talking about the tragedy happened in Harvard. A new Chinese student there committed to suicide. It's miserable and may disappoint those dreaming of a beautiful life in the States. Taking my busy study into consideration, I think that everyone should learn to enjoy the life, or learn to live, or learn to survive at any circumstance, or at least, learn to select the environment suitable for himself.

My finals have already ended and I feel unquenchably happy. Oh, how wonderful is that I can escape from those meaningless assignments and starchy lectures! Anyway, the first, also the supposed hardest semester is over!

I am still lost as last year. But it is soothing that I still possess a bright and light heart and I still have confidence. Life is cruel but we are not at the age that we obey to the destiny. We struggle with the destiny. 1998 is coming, and I am expecting for it, excitedly. I hope a prosperous new year, which can be shared with all the friends.

Maybe as someone said the world is mad, but I am not mad. Life is hard, but I find enjoyment by despising the hypocrisy and appreciating the truthfulness. I complain, but I accept the imperfection that prevails in life.

When people are not sure about what are most important in their lives they usually have confusion with which they keep struggling. I myself always feel lost but my destination seldom shakes. Dreams are beautiful and the dream of pursuing dreams is intoxicating, but never slay dreams by dreams.

Summer 1998(I), never so close to death

My friends and I go to Pennsylvania for camping and rafting. I can not swim. But the impulse to touch the nature compels me to this activity--I can't resist. I am a little foolhardy, I think.

The Ohiopyle Park is beautiful, no doubt. My first camping experience is interesting and exciting, too. Also I never rafted before, never ever. Having enjoyed some thrilling fight with the torrents, we decide to try more challenging passages. This turns out to be a wrong decision. Near the endpoint our raft suddenly jumps onto a bumping boulder and turns upside-down directly. Immersed in the torrent I reach out my hands, but I only touch the inner bottom of the raft. I know the raft covers my head, which is a frightening situation I never imagined. If I could not escape from beneath I would die. As to what happened then, in my memory there are several seconds of blankness, but I do remember I drank some water (it tastes bland though). Somehow I succeed in floating out. I see the sky again! So lovely and never more lovely! But this is not the end. I can't see any rescuer nor boat since we just miss the endpoint. I am not able to fight against the violent torrent. Vehemently, it drives me more than 100 meters. The next passage should be deep water. Floating helplessly, I donot know how it would toy me. Amid the panic I finally reach some shallow, rocky passage and am able to stand up. Thanks God! The terror ends.

This is the first time in my life that I was so close to death. The night before rafting, at our camping site, I initiated a lot of games, jokes, mysterious stories and ghost stories. Of course, I had not predicted the challenge I faced the next day. When I look backwards and find our lives have so many such unpredictable factors, I do see the inferiority of our lives and the inability of human beings.

Aliveness and death are indubitably a pair of contradiction. For atheists, they are the opposition between existence and null. For theists, they are discrepancy between the worldly and the transcendental. But all in a sudden, the huge gap in between obscures and our lives become so insignificant. However wonderful the life is, how fragile it is, and how miserable the death is.

Not everyone is afraid of death. In a sunny day our department has picnic at the Lakeview Cemetery. The motivation in choosing this picnic site is that Doris, one of our colleagues, wanted to show us the cemetery slots she and her husband bought for themselves. Winding along the quite and rambling ally her van brought us to the peaceful site she chose. We lay table and take out the food. Some guys sit on the tomes after saying sorry to the underground owners. Beside the tomes and groves we drink, we eat delicious food, we talk lightly and we laugh loudly. We are so relaxed that we are not aware how close we are to the dead--only a thin level of sand.

After lunch, we take a walk at the cemetery, boisterously. We stop by groves and read the tomes. A lot of people are sleeping here silently. When they were alive, some of them were happy, some sad; some rich, some penniless; some famous, some anonymous. But now they are buried here with their stories and rumors--known or unknown, with love and peace--realized or not. They lying here, the tall pines, the abundant grass, the warm sunshine, the mild wind and the fresh air belong to them forever. Death is also a kind of beauty, I suddenly find.

Does anyone of we alive know anyone of those not?

Fall 1998, revived illusions

This week is a busy one. I feel a little boring now. Maybe when I work again I can re-collect some passion. /sigh, work, work. Am I a coward? Why don't I want to work? I would rather look out of the window every day, every minute, for my whole life.

At weekend I clean the fallen leaves in my backyard. The leaf pile emits a natural fragrance that intoxicates me. Leaning against the tree lazily, listening to the birds chirping, I am thinking: "How about being a garbage collector? Or a ranger? Then I can have this feeling everyday."

Think complex; live simple.

Winter 1998 (I), worship of snow

This winter, we have snow.

Years ago, when I stayed in dorm alone, it was the first winter break I was not at home. It snowed in that Spring Festival eve. I jumped up and down in the snow ground, joyfully, like a kid. Snow, snow, she cheered me up. I like Christmas', I like new years, because they are so real, as real as the snow, as the downy flakes, as the whiteness they bring us.

What a winter this is. When I walk alone in the snow ground, I murmur: "Merry Christmas, merry Christmas."

Winter 1998 (II), meditation on loss

For years I have been lost. Totally lost. Somehow I find that, unlike most people, I have no tangible goals. Yet I also have something precious that I look for, that is, Light. But can anyone describe who She is, specifically? The star? The Moon? The Sun? Or a glimpse of light from the window of a village cottage? I do not know where She is. I only know from the legends that She is beautiful, good, and true. I even do not know how She looks like. I, undauntedly, however, sought. I inquired every passerby if they have seen Her; I opened my eyes widely to look for Her; I vibrated my heart to feel Her direction. But I did not succeed.

So comes my loss. I began to roam about to see if I can meet Her. I select to roam maybe because I was a born roamer who has the courage to face such a life, the power to bear it and the passion to enjoy it. I had been agonized by it, I had been puzzled for it, but now I know it is the life belonging to me.

Life of roamers is exciting but tough. Sometimes I stop to contemplate. Sometimes I run fast when I feel some vague clues. When I am tired, I take a nap in the snow ground. When I am hungry, I grab a fruit from my dream bag and eat it. When I am thirsty, I drink the blood bleeding from my heart. I have fears but not tears. I have hopes and dreams.

I just roam.