Long time no update.

In those blueberry days in Cambridge, afternoons were veiled by viridescent dye: even some blueberries (those individualists who tried to hide their deliciousness) would shout the New England color, in high pitch–”Green!” They displeased the sun-flowers, who then summoned their faithful lovers, the cute bees, together crying–”Orange!” This incoherent image of New England summer–blueberries rolling around trying not to be blue, sun-flowers bathing their petals in orange light, and bees being really cute–makes me feel happy in this cold winter’s day, where snowflakes no longer descend in joyful dance steps, but rather, harden themselves a waxy great wall–and I, their enemy, apparently! Who else will they want to guard against? I am convinced that all living things have gone for a vacation (even the Chinese, known for their diligence, announced their disappearance: “We will be visiting family in LA and will reopen on the 26th!”). So then why am I not at [scharrma]’s house in Boston, purring next to the two kitties, rolling around like a spoiled blueberry in front of Scharr’s parents (literally)?

Here’s the succinct version of the story:

By the end of summer, I urgently needed a new life (by that, I mean a life different from what I had in Cambridge). Life in Cambridge was not bad. I loved the city, only that my job was not satisfying: working as a software engineer paid well but was extremely monotonous, soul-numbing and asocial. It got to a point where I realized that there is a need to get out of my situation, away from my company. Luckily after one year of employment, my bosses approved to let me work via telecommuting. In late August, I moved out from this beautiful apartment at Harvard Square, deposited most of my belongings at Scharr’s house, flew back to Grinnell with two suitcases–one large and one medium size, containing the most essentials–and moved into this two bedroom apartment on Elm Street (which happens to be one of the ground floor apartments in the “slum” house)–whence my “new” life began.

To call it a “new” life isn’t exactly fit. After all, graduation was merely a year ago. There is nothing more familiar than being here. In practical terms, I am saving a lot by living here; in addition to many good things from the college: a good library, music/art events, lectures, fun people, the list goes on. This move is by far a good decision. The four-hour work day gives me much freedom to read extensively (hence numerous hours in Burling); and two hours a day I play music. Sometimes I wonder if I am spoiled by my freedom: after living a working life so free, I can’t imagine turning back to 8-5; maybe one day it will be possible if something I love turns into a profession? In any case, the short term plan is to be here a bit longer (about six months?) to save enough money, quit the job, and go on to something completely different–most likely to France; but truthfully, who can be sure of the future?

As for now, I am still in this little town, trapped in snow piles, but nevertheless beaming with optimism (as a necessary remedy for cold air and early sunsets). Luckily it won’t be long before I arrive in Scharr’s house again and pretend to be his parents’ cat until early January. Then I will once again tread on the soil of Formosa, where I will be overfed with delicious, exotic things and be overwhelmed by familiarity of home no longer familiar. Last but not least, mother and I will be roaming on the streets of Tokyo: me busy taking pictures, she busy shopping, we together devouring nothing but sushi for a week. (Sushi is a legitimate, temporary substitution for blueberries.) All too lovely.

I wish your winter is just as lovely. If you happen to be in Boston, Taipei or Tokyo, let me know!

Happy Holidays!

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After a few hours of an arduous reading session, a gust of dormant air started to wheeze its way around my upper chest, breezing the cells with more lethargy than what the most powerful summer wind can achieve. Yet it was unclear to me how stagnancy could so speedily, quietly accumulate within one’s body while the mind raced forward, anxiously piercing through boundless darkness, with full velocity and energy toward the beam of light twinkling afar. Never were mind and body so vividly divided; never was the pursuit of beauty, freedom, eternity so weighed down by the need of a siesta. How could one, then, upon reflecting on the old dualist wisdom, not forgive all its dubiousness and accept it as a temporary truth?

a.
hidden in a dark room resounding
with arias full of love and sighs,
dramatic emotions mingled with reality
gave life to whispers and incessant kisses…

b.
how sarcastic that the final conclusion of aida
“morir! si pura ebella” suddenly came to me—
eternity is worth an infinite resignation and/or
the weight of a fatal stone, in the name of love.

c.
“datemi pace,” i sang my heart to you in the form
of a madrigal. you laughed and sang back
“Io parto” meanwhile giving my hand a firm grasp.
then we both admitted: word-painting was for fools.

d.
candle lights flickering in darkness, the
chorus plain chanting sacred praises for
the divine goodness, silently, but unmistakably,
an empty chair evinced a different story.

e.
i could almost see the cello body reflecting
sunlight onto the purple curtains. I pondered
over what must be a false memory–
a dark room had to, by definition, be lack of light.