[warning: not much Christmas cheer found in the following]
i just re-read the first batch of posts i wrote on this blogspot, which i started keeping about four years ago. it felt like reading somebody else's journal, i was pretty surprised at my thought processes back then, and to tell the truth, i kind of miss it. to be sure, i was caught up in some kind of self-parameterized world in which i couldn't seem to let myself be happy, but at least i wanted something better, i wanted to BE better.
this semester was a weird one. it was probably the loneliest i've ever felt in my life, which i thought at first was due to standard causes: readjusting from china, living by myself, not having the energy to make a new set of friends. as the semester went on, however, i came to realize that the real reasons were deeper, and that living in spiritual isolation for two years in china had caused my heart to harden in subtle ways and worsened certain character deficiencies that i was just beginning to notice. i didn't seem to care about the people i was just getting to know, and getting/staying in touch with old friends seemed like some kind of burden. i don't know why or when i started to feel like that, but it totally, completely, absolutely sucks. aren't people supposed to become less self-absorbed as they get older? at least a few years ago, thinking about myself seemed to lead to a healthier place.
i'm not sure where i'm trying to go here. to explain further, here's part of an email to joyce, from a couple weeks ago:
this semester feels like i've been tempted by and struggled with every kind of sin at once, with pride, lust, apathy, self-centeredness, quick-temperedness, lack of self-discipline, laziness. it's been incredibly frustrating, because at the bottom of it i really really just want this purity and simplicity that's eluding me. and then i trudge to campus with a dark and heavy and lifeless heart, unable to force smiles or cheeriness. and this leaves a bad mark on everybody i come across, christian or nonchristian.
and you know what? in some ways, this semester is probably the closest i've felt to God in several years. when i pray with the members of my bible studies, it's done in completely earnest and un-selfconscious supplication and thanksgiving. when i read the bible, sometimes the words feel so much juicier and more full of life than they have in such a long time. so why can't i have joy and peace?? why can't i keep reading, and praying, and living what i know? and how is it mentally and emotionally possible for me to share the deepest part of my spirit and soul with someone through praying together, and revert to feeling like a stranger when our eyes open?
i truly believe that God is the most amazing and the most solid foundation possible that draws together all sorts of unlikely people and makes them brothers and sisters. it's true, i believe it, and i feel it. so why then do i feel like i'm existing in isolation?
***
i can't figure out my inconsistencies. are they the exception or the rule? regardless, things just aren't adding up, and it's driving me crazy. after the few paragraphs above, i went on to ramble about 'the deepest thirsts of my soul', but i'm not so sure i can apply that label in good conscience. if wanting to connect with people and learn how to love were really the goals of my life, why do i spend so little of my time on actually trying to achieve them? if i really want to serve and reach the people of china, why am i so reluctant to use my spare time to read and learn more about them? ok that kinda came out of nowhere, but it's along the same lines.
i feel my life being sucked down into banalities and lethargy, hard-heartedness and emotionalism, and i hate it. it makes me wish that the simple command of seeking first the kingdom of God wasn't so difficult (for me) to follow.
***Postscript***
these were the first few lines of joyce's response to my email:
christians are the only people in the world who can rant like this and NOT be drunk. we're special. listen, by the time you read this it will be daylight and you'll already have shrugged this off -- nevertheless i will attempt to comfort you.
haha...yeah. it's almost 6 am, time to sleep.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
going along with jesse-kristof's photojournal thing, here are some of my favorite pictures from baojing, all scenery/non-people focused.
a view of baojing from the radio tower
inside a random house in town
one of the three roads leading out of town
the campus of the middle school i stayed at
Youshui River, which the school overlooked
my primary school students flying kites along the bank of the Youshui River
the mountains behind the primary school i taught at
a waterfall hidden in those mountains
view from the Baota pagoda, a few miles outside of town
coming home from the Baota
Christmas tree hunting a few miles outside of town
*****
a view of baojing from the radio tower
inside a random house in town
one of the three roads leading out of town
the campus of the middle school i stayed at
Youshui River, which the school overlooked
my primary school students flying kites along the bank of the Youshui River
the mountains behind the primary school i taught at
a waterfall hidden in those mountains
view from the Baota pagoda, a few miles outside of town
coming home from the Baota
Christmas tree hunting a few miles outside of town*****
Sunday, September 11, 2005
it's about 1 in the morning and i'm lounging at the spacious desk in the corner of the cockroached basement i'm living in. the desk is lit by a 40-watt lamp and a melon-scented candle, forming a dim glow that barely collides with the glow of the other 40-watt lamp in the opposite corner of the room. my bed is a mattress on a 6 inch high frame, and sometimes when i'm not careful, i bang my head against the low beam running across the center of the basement, which causes my roommates Mouse 1 and Mouse 2 to run for cover. my laptop is propped up on Umberto Eco and John Irving to avoid overheating and shutting itself down while i'm in the middle of something important, like googling the names of my classmates.
to get to campus, i ride my friend's old 21 speed bike, which has decided to simplify and become a 6 speed bike. it's a hilly 2-mile ride and it seems to be getting harder every day, which shouldn't be happening. yesterday on my way to campus i was overtaken, not once but twice, by a midget on a bike. no midget sightings in a month of hawaii, and yesterday, two of them glided separately past me.
i read for class several hours a day, and though sometimes it gets a little dry, i enjoy it for the most part, which allows me to put off the chore of developing academic self-discipline for at least awhile. i haven't missed any classes so far and i do my best to ask non-retarded questions in all of them. it is infinitely easier to come up with a vague pseudo-intellectual bullcrappy question in a humanities class than it is in an engineering class.
waikiki beach is just down the street from my basement. i try to make it there at least once a week, though my reading rate goes down to about 6 pages of textbook per hour, and i haven't managed once to avoid scraping my knees on the rocks hidden a few yards out from shore.
tonight for dinner i had three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, half a tomato, a box of nerds, some chewy spree, a can of passion-guava-orange juice, and a handful of crackers.
this is pretty much what i imagined the life of a grad student (in hawaii) would be like. as for the other aspects of life, they vary. i would like some close friends to hang out and relax with, someone to call up and bike down to the beach with in the middle of the night, but i don't feel like paying the emotional energy cost of getting to understand someone and having them understand me.
ok, i dunno what i'm saying. i had some friends here already, people who taught with me in china, but it feels strange jumping into their previously assembled lives. i've met a lot of new people, but how am i supposed to know which ones i'll end up being good friends with? i guess that sounds cold, not wanting to spend time getting to know people who i might not end up connecting with, but that's kind of how i feel. i should be more open-minded.
i miss china, all parts of it, society, geography, ethnicity. i want to be involved in it, to be useful, from the rural to the urban, from the traditional to the popular, from the ridiculous to the sublime.
ok, i've been reading way too much prettified fancy writing. sorry for the stuffy style.
to get to campus, i ride my friend's old 21 speed bike, which has decided to simplify and become a 6 speed bike. it's a hilly 2-mile ride and it seems to be getting harder every day, which shouldn't be happening. yesterday on my way to campus i was overtaken, not once but twice, by a midget on a bike. no midget sightings in a month of hawaii, and yesterday, two of them glided separately past me.
i read for class several hours a day, and though sometimes it gets a little dry, i enjoy it for the most part, which allows me to put off the chore of developing academic self-discipline for at least awhile. i haven't missed any classes so far and i do my best to ask non-retarded questions in all of them. it is infinitely easier to come up with a vague pseudo-intellectual bullcrappy question in a humanities class than it is in an engineering class.
waikiki beach is just down the street from my basement. i try to make it there at least once a week, though my reading rate goes down to about 6 pages of textbook per hour, and i haven't managed once to avoid scraping my knees on the rocks hidden a few yards out from shore.
tonight for dinner i had three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, half a tomato, a box of nerds, some chewy spree, a can of passion-guava-orange juice, and a handful of crackers.
this is pretty much what i imagined the life of a grad student (in hawaii) would be like. as for the other aspects of life, they vary. i would like some close friends to hang out and relax with, someone to call up and bike down to the beach with in the middle of the night, but i don't feel like paying the emotional energy cost of getting to understand someone and having them understand me.
ok, i dunno what i'm saying. i had some friends here already, people who taught with me in china, but it feels strange jumping into their previously assembled lives. i've met a lot of new people, but how am i supposed to know which ones i'll end up being good friends with? i guess that sounds cold, not wanting to spend time getting to know people who i might not end up connecting with, but that's kind of how i feel. i should be more open-minded.
i miss china, all parts of it, society, geography, ethnicity. i want to be involved in it, to be useful, from the rural to the urban, from the traditional to the popular, from the ridiculous to the sublime.
ok, i've been reading way too much prettified fancy writing. sorry for the stuffy style.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Thursday, July 14, 2005
from an email i wrote to a friend late last night, when i was feeling way too sentimental and melancholy:
i can't believe i have less than 5 days left in baojing. you know, i grew up in new jersey, on the east coast, and it was really hard for me to leave it go to to college in california. all my friends, my family, everyone i grew up with was in new jersey - i didn't know anybody in california. my friends and my high school girlfriend came to my house to say goodbye the morning i left, and i cried all the way to the airport.
i lived in california for 5 years, and then i came to china. when i left california, i drove my car across the country back to the east coast with my dad. i left on a breezy sunny day in late spring; again, some friends came to my apartment to see me off. i was sad about leaving, because i loved california and berkeley and my time there, but i was excited to move on to the next stage of my life too.
i came to china and i didn't know anybody. when i got off the plane in shanghai, the lady who was supposed to pick me up wasn't there, and i didn't have her phone number. i stood in the lobby like an idiot for a long time, thinking the same thought over and over again - i don't know anybody within 10,000 miles of me right now except for my family and friends in taiwan, and i don't think they'd be able to help me here. things worked out and i ended up in baojing, and now it's two years later, and i'm about to move on, and i'm sad.
when i left new jersey, i left behind my family, and my childhood, and my childhood friends, and my favorite parks, and all the little unimportant things that left such a big impression on me for whatever reason as i grew up. when i left california, i left behind the place where i learned to be independent and to be passionate and adventurous, and all the magical places and people and experiences which combined to direct my life and shape my transition from a simple child to a resident of our strange and mystical world.
and now as i leave china, i'm leaving behind an entire country and an entire culture, and a town that's unlike any place i've ever lived, and beautiful mountains, and the friends i've made. i've come to know china during the past two years - i've traveled over it, i've read about it, i've read about its history and its modern society, and i've come to know its people, from xinjiang to beijing to baojing. how can i leave behind so much? not just memories, not just magical secret places, not just precious friends, but an entire country, an entire way of life. it seems too much to thrust into a person's heart and then take away after two short years.
i know i'll come back here in the future, but even if the same people are here and even if i live here for another two years, it will be different. this part of my life is over, this stage is done, and the best i could hope for would be Baojing Part 2.
i wonder how i've changed in the past two years, from 22 to 24. i hope i've become more communicative and intuitive and relatable. after all, the differences between chinese and americans are more than just languages, and i've met many kinds of people here in china that i've never met before. i don't know if i've become wiser. i think i've become less sure of myself, which may be a good thing, because it may make me humbler and more open-minded, and may give me a proper fear and awe of things, of life, and people, and Love, and God.
...
i can't believe i have less than 5 days left in baojing. you know, i grew up in new jersey, on the east coast, and it was really hard for me to leave it go to to college in california. all my friends, my family, everyone i grew up with was in new jersey - i didn't know anybody in california. my friends and my high school girlfriend came to my house to say goodbye the morning i left, and i cried all the way to the airport.
i lived in california for 5 years, and then i came to china. when i left california, i drove my car across the country back to the east coast with my dad. i left on a breezy sunny day in late spring; again, some friends came to my apartment to see me off. i was sad about leaving, because i loved california and berkeley and my time there, but i was excited to move on to the next stage of my life too.
i came to china and i didn't know anybody. when i got off the plane in shanghai, the lady who was supposed to pick me up wasn't there, and i didn't have her phone number. i stood in the lobby like an idiot for a long time, thinking the same thought over and over again - i don't know anybody within 10,000 miles of me right now except for my family and friends in taiwan, and i don't think they'd be able to help me here. things worked out and i ended up in baojing, and now it's two years later, and i'm about to move on, and i'm sad.
when i left new jersey, i left behind my family, and my childhood, and my childhood friends, and my favorite parks, and all the little unimportant things that left such a big impression on me for whatever reason as i grew up. when i left california, i left behind the place where i learned to be independent and to be passionate and adventurous, and all the magical places and people and experiences which combined to direct my life and shape my transition from a simple child to a resident of our strange and mystical world.
and now as i leave china, i'm leaving behind an entire country and an entire culture, and a town that's unlike any place i've ever lived, and beautiful mountains, and the friends i've made. i've come to know china during the past two years - i've traveled over it, i've read about it, i've read about its history and its modern society, and i've come to know its people, from xinjiang to beijing to baojing. how can i leave behind so much? not just memories, not just magical secret places, not just precious friends, but an entire country, an entire way of life. it seems too much to thrust into a person's heart and then take away after two short years.
i know i'll come back here in the future, but even if the same people are here and even if i live here for another two years, it will be different. this part of my life is over, this stage is done, and the best i could hope for would be Baojing Part 2.
i wonder how i've changed in the past two years, from 22 to 24. i hope i've become more communicative and intuitive and relatable. after all, the differences between chinese and americans are more than just languages, and i've met many kinds of people here in china that i've never met before. i don't know if i've become wiser. i think i've become less sure of myself, which may be a good thing, because it may make me humbler and more open-minded, and may give me a proper fear and awe of things, of life, and people, and Love, and God.
...
Monday, May 23, 2005
last week i took a solo trip up to jiuzhaigou in sichuan province, a national park with a series of crystal blue lakes hidden in alpine mountains. it was incredibly beautiful and gorgeous and i recommend going there to everybody, but it was a huge pain to get to. i had to travel a total of 6 days to get there and back, which included 49 hours on a hardseat train and 28 hours on a bus. in honor of that, here are some selected notes that i wrote down last summer, when i was on a 24 hour hardseat train to beijing. they probably won't make as much as sense unless you've ever had to switch between standing and sitting in a chair where the back angles forward instead of backwards for an entire day or you've ever traveled around by yourself.
***
It's been about 11 minutes. My ass is starting to hurt. K, someone said they can upgrade to sleeper beds around Zhengzhou. Should I try too, or suck it up for 24 hours, another stage in my personal resistance-building for potential future torture at the hands of the Communists due to my capitalist Christian Taiwanese-ness?
A.W. Tozer wrote the entire premise, outline, and presumably a good amount of the prose of The Pursuit of God on a train from Chicago to somewhere in Texas. I'll probably end up writing about squatty-potties for 20 hours. Maybe I'll try a short story. Traditionally I've been able to write more freely when I'm in a state of tension and I've been more creative when in a state of lethargic insomnia, so by those standards I should produce a freaking Pulitzer Prize-worthy novel by the time we pull into Beijing.
Times I've jokingly wished for death, to myself, in my own head, where I guess it's not so much of a joke anymore: 4 and counting. Um...5.
A haiku:
The track stretches on
I spend most of my time in
The squatty potty.
If I sit here and make one tally mark per second, I'd make roughly 90,000 tally marks by the time we get to Beijing. If 5 tally marks take up 1 cm, that's ~ 80 marks per line, which is 2160 per page, which means I'll, um, I mean, I WOULD, IN THEORY, fill up ~ 42 pages. More realistically, I'd make 2 per second, for 84 pages. Even more realistically, I wouldn't be driven to that degree of agony until about halfway through the ride, after which I'd probably black out every other 5 minutes, so I think it's safe to expect ~ 20 pages of tally marks by Beijing.
Without being pretentious, hopefully, I have to say that going to Switzerland [two weeks in June 2001] was one of the most defining times of my life. It was a perfect combination of setting and background - the chance to wander around an unfamiliar place by myself was perfect for that point in my life. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say here. I suppose I was just reminded of Switzerland because I'm writing in a journal and listening to music on a train going through mountains. I guess I could say that those 2 weeks greatly helped shape my life, but I couldn't quantify how. I've never been one to instantly change; I have a lot of life inertia, probably due to a mixture of pride, stubborness, confidence, and mental obesity. My clearest memory from Switzerland is walking through the streets of Lugano, listening to my cd player, and knowing that I loved the people in my life as deeply as I could, as I was capable of at that point, however flawed and inconsistent that may have been.
I think it's 12 hours later now, though the little shemale who's been yelling for the past hour shows no signs of letting up, so it can't be that late. I've said it before, some kids just aren't as cute as others. Why would you make your androgynous 4 year old child stand in the aisle of a train all night? This can only get worse before it gets better.
I caught myself on the verge of buying a tofu stick from the vendor's cart earlier. I actually reached out to stick my hand in the murky swamp-liquid the tofu was swimming in to test the temperature before I remembered that I want to live to see my parents again. I might give in and buy a bag of peanuts later, at the risk of annoying the 4 female Beijing Film Institute students who I've found myself in the middle of.
My butt has officially broken off from my body. I may have to resort to frontline Taiwanese Strait belligerence to get it back before this night is over.
Where have the past 12 hours gone? I can't really recall much other than what's been recounted above. Maybe my brain has been compressed into the 2nd dimension and I'm now a full 2 degrees away from the concept of time, moving on a line pushing itself horizontally through a solenoid of infant screams and dying nerve endings, like the helicopter pilot in So I Married An Axe Murderer.
I'd worry that I'll soon be guilty of infanticide but I think the girls next to me are losing patience with Androboy faster than I am. Taking that sleeper bus from Hotan to Kashgar and spending the whole night fighting off several Uygur men from trying to cuddle with me really built up my tolerance for these kinds of things.
Sometimes I can't believe it's been a year in China already, though things really seem different now than last July. Meeting Kevin, Danny, and Duncan in the lobby of our hotel in Shanghai has already been pushed into my Pantheon of Selective Highly-Lucid Memories.
The film girls have started talking to me. For some reason this makes me very nervous. Maybe because it breaks 12+ hours of happily ignoring each other. How'm I gonna handle being back in a country where everyone around me actually understands what I'm saying? I've already lost what remained of my tact after college.
I kind of think of Baojing as my residence now. It's been a long year. I'm really glad I made the friends I did, they've added to my life in their way. Why were the 1st and 2nd semester so different? I guess spring felt more like a job but fall was still an adventure, with all the foreign teachers on more or less equal footing.
It's been 20+ hours. Last night I had about a 2 hour long conversation with Rick, the English interpreter from the Dalian municipal government who was standing in the aisle next to me. We talked about all sorts of crap like movies, philosophy, science, Christianity, comic books, history, etc. Seems like a serious fellow; calls himself a pragmatist. I hope one day my Chinese will be as good as his English.
The fat kid next to me is making fat kid noises and glancing at my chocolate bar. Speaks for itself (and me).
About 1 hour left of this madness. Thank God it's sunny.
...
***
It's been about 11 minutes. My ass is starting to hurt. K, someone said they can upgrade to sleeper beds around Zhengzhou. Should I try too, or suck it up for 24 hours, another stage in my personal resistance-building for potential future torture at the hands of the Communists due to my capitalist Christian Taiwanese-ness?
A.W. Tozer wrote the entire premise, outline, and presumably a good amount of the prose of The Pursuit of God on a train from Chicago to somewhere in Texas. I'll probably end up writing about squatty-potties for 20 hours. Maybe I'll try a short story. Traditionally I've been able to write more freely when I'm in a state of tension and I've been more creative when in a state of lethargic insomnia, so by those standards I should produce a freaking Pulitzer Prize-worthy novel by the time we pull into Beijing.
Times I've jokingly wished for death, to myself, in my own head, where I guess it's not so much of a joke anymore: 4 and counting. Um...5.
A haiku:
The track stretches on
I spend most of my time in
The squatty potty.
If I sit here and make one tally mark per second, I'd make roughly 90,000 tally marks by the time we get to Beijing. If 5 tally marks take up 1 cm, that's ~ 80 marks per line, which is 2160 per page, which means I'll, um, I mean, I WOULD, IN THEORY, fill up ~ 42 pages. More realistically, I'd make 2 per second, for 84 pages. Even more realistically, I wouldn't be driven to that degree of agony until about halfway through the ride, after which I'd probably black out every other 5 minutes, so I think it's safe to expect ~ 20 pages of tally marks by Beijing.
Without being pretentious, hopefully, I have to say that going to Switzerland [two weeks in June 2001] was one of the most defining times of my life. It was a perfect combination of setting and background - the chance to wander around an unfamiliar place by myself was perfect for that point in my life. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say here. I suppose I was just reminded of Switzerland because I'm writing in a journal and listening to music on a train going through mountains. I guess I could say that those 2 weeks greatly helped shape my life, but I couldn't quantify how. I've never been one to instantly change; I have a lot of life inertia, probably due to a mixture of pride, stubborness, confidence, and mental obesity. My clearest memory from Switzerland is walking through the streets of Lugano, listening to my cd player, and knowing that I loved the people in my life as deeply as I could, as I was capable of at that point, however flawed and inconsistent that may have been.
I think it's 12 hours later now, though the little shemale who's been yelling for the past hour shows no signs of letting up, so it can't be that late. I've said it before, some kids just aren't as cute as others. Why would you make your androgynous 4 year old child stand in the aisle of a train all night? This can only get worse before it gets better.
I caught myself on the verge of buying a tofu stick from the vendor's cart earlier. I actually reached out to stick my hand in the murky swamp-liquid the tofu was swimming in to test the temperature before I remembered that I want to live to see my parents again. I might give in and buy a bag of peanuts later, at the risk of annoying the 4 female Beijing Film Institute students who I've found myself in the middle of.
My butt has officially broken off from my body. I may have to resort to frontline Taiwanese Strait belligerence to get it back before this night is over.
Where have the past 12 hours gone? I can't really recall much other than what's been recounted above. Maybe my brain has been compressed into the 2nd dimension and I'm now a full 2 degrees away from the concept of time, moving on a line pushing itself horizontally through a solenoid of infant screams and dying nerve endings, like the helicopter pilot in So I Married An Axe Murderer.
I'd worry that I'll soon be guilty of infanticide but I think the girls next to me are losing patience with Androboy faster than I am. Taking that sleeper bus from Hotan to Kashgar and spending the whole night fighting off several Uygur men from trying to cuddle with me really built up my tolerance for these kinds of things.
Sometimes I can't believe it's been a year in China already, though things really seem different now than last July. Meeting Kevin, Danny, and Duncan in the lobby of our hotel in Shanghai has already been pushed into my Pantheon of Selective Highly-Lucid Memories.
The film girls have started talking to me. For some reason this makes me very nervous. Maybe because it breaks 12+ hours of happily ignoring each other. How'm I gonna handle being back in a country where everyone around me actually understands what I'm saying? I've already lost what remained of my tact after college.
I kind of think of Baojing as my residence now. It's been a long year. I'm really glad I made the friends I did, they've added to my life in their way. Why were the 1st and 2nd semester so different? I guess spring felt more like a job but fall was still an adventure, with all the foreign teachers on more or less equal footing.
It's been 20+ hours. Last night I had about a 2 hour long conversation with Rick, the English interpreter from the Dalian municipal government who was standing in the aisle next to me. We talked about all sorts of crap like movies, philosophy, science, Christianity, comic books, history, etc. Seems like a serious fellow; calls himself a pragmatist. I hope one day my Chinese will be as good as his English.
The fat kid next to me is making fat kid noises and glancing at my chocolate bar. Speaks for itself (and me).
About 1 hour left of this madness. Thank God it's sunny.
...
Friday, May 06, 2005
there was an article in the china daily a few days ago about how the old president of taiwan, lee teng-hui, is unhappy with lien chan's visit to the mainland; the article was full of slander and petty name-calling. admittedly, i know next to nothing about lee teng-hui, but this article was such over the top propaganda that i had to respond, probably a little too heatedly. this was the first thing i wrote in the comments section, under the name Voice of Reality:
"But one cannot fool all the people all the time, and politicians who cheat the public to do evil will eventually be denounced by the public."
Wow. How is this article presented to the viewing public as news instead of an editorial opinion?
Where is the evidence of the 'new round of mainland enthusiasm' in Taiwan? Has the author of this article even been to Taiwan lately? If so, he must have left his conscience and journalistic integrity in Beijing.
Are you bitches blind? Nobody in Taiwan even comes close to liking the law. Why would anybody be happy about a law that authorizes another country to bomb the shit out of them according to that country's own whim?
The surreal level of hypocrisy of the Chinese media is beyond belief. Until China faces up to the fact that Taiwan has been a de facto independent state for the past 60 years, cross-strait relations will never have a solid foundation of truth. If the Chinese government really cares about popular opinion in Taiwan, and if they are so sure that most Taiwanese desire re-unification, they should simply back the hell off and let the Taiwanese people dictate the course of their own island. After all,"the real traitors are those who distort, cheat and misappropriate public opinion for their own vicious intentions, and those who claim to love Taiwan but are actually sabotaging thewelfare of the Taiwan people and selling out the future of Taiwan. They will be denounced by the people once their true face is exposed."
surprisingly enough, it was posted, along with comments by other readers expressing their disagreement with the article, and a dialogue of sorts began. kind of encouraging.
sorry everything's been so curt and serious lately, i haven't really felt like writing in awhile. though if you're still reading this, you're probably used to my inconsistency by now.
...
"But one cannot fool all the people all the time, and politicians who cheat the public to do evil will eventually be denounced by the public."
Wow. How is this article presented to the viewing public as news instead of an editorial opinion?
Where is the evidence of the 'new round of mainland enthusiasm' in Taiwan? Has the author of this article even been to Taiwan lately? If so, he must have left his conscience and journalistic integrity in Beijing.
Are you bitches blind? Nobody in Taiwan even comes close to liking the law. Why would anybody be happy about a law that authorizes another country to bomb the shit out of them according to that country's own whim?
The surreal level of hypocrisy of the Chinese media is beyond belief. Until China faces up to the fact that Taiwan has been a de facto independent state for the past 60 years, cross-strait relations will never have a solid foundation of truth. If the Chinese government really cares about popular opinion in Taiwan, and if they are so sure that most Taiwanese desire re-unification, they should simply back the hell off and let the Taiwanese people dictate the course of their own island. After all,"the real traitors are those who distort, cheat and misappropriate public opinion for their own vicious intentions, and those who claim to love Taiwan but are actually sabotaging thewelfare of the Taiwan people and selling out the future of Taiwan. They will be denounced by the people once their true face is exposed."
surprisingly enough, it was posted, along with comments by other readers expressing their disagreement with the article, and a dialogue of sorts began. kind of encouraging.
sorry everything's been so curt and serious lately, i haven't really felt like writing in awhile. though if you're still reading this, you're probably used to my inconsistency by now.
...
Saturday, April 30, 2005
a wise and penetrating passage (somewhat edited by me) from Cry, the Beloved Country, where Father Vincent is talking to another priest, Kumalo, who has just learned that his son has deserted his pregnant girlfriend and killed a white man who was a great fighter for justice in South Africa:
- My friend, your anxiety turned to fear, and your fear turned to sorrow. But sorrow is better than fear. For fear impoverishes always, while sorrow may enrich.
Kumalo looked at him, with an intensity of gaze that was strange in so humble a man, and hard to encounter.
- I do not know that I am enriched, he said.
- No one can comprehend the ways of God, said Father Vincent desperately.
Kumalo looked at him, not bitterly or accusingly or reproachfully.
- It seems that God has turned from me, he said.
- Stop, cried Father Vincent. You are beside yourself. Go and pray, go and rest. And do not judge your son too quickly. He too is shocked into silence, maybe.
Kumalo stood up. I trust that it is so, he said, but I have no hope any more. What did you say I must do? Yes, pray and rest.
There was no mockery in his voice, and Father Vincent knew that it was not in this man's nature to speak mockingly. But so mocking were the words that the priest caught him by the arm, and said to him urgently, sit down, I must speak to you as a priest.
When Kumalo had sat down, Father Vincent said to him, yes, I said pray and rest. Even if it is only words that you pray, and even if your resting is only a lying on a bed. And do not pray for yourself, and do not pray to understand the ways of God. For they are secret. Who knows what life is, for life is a secret. And why you have compassion for a girl, when you yourself receive no compassion, that is a secret. And why you go on, when it would seem better to die, that is a secret. Do not pray and think about these things now, there will be other times. Pray for Gertrude, and for her child, and for the girl that is to be your son's wife, and for the child that will be your grandchild. Pray for your wife and all at Ndotsheni. Pray for the woman and the children that are bereaved. Pray for the soul of him who was killed. Pray for us at the Mission House, and for those at Ezenzeleni, who try to rebuild in a place of destruction. Pray for your own rebuilding. Pray for all white people, those who do justice, and those who would do justice if they were not afraid. And do not fear to pray for your son, and for his amendment.
- I hear you, said Kumalo humbly.
- And give thanks where you can give thanks. For nothing is better. Is there not your wife, and Mrs. Lithebe, and Msimangu, and this young white man at the reformatory? And now my son, go and pray, go and rest.
He helped the old man to his feet, and gave him his hat. And when Kumalo would have thanked him, he said, we do what is in us, and why it is in us, that is also a secret. It is Christ in us, crying that men may be succoured and forgiven, even when He Himself is forsaken.
He led the old man to the door of the Mission, and there parted from him.
- I shall pray for you, he said, night and day. That I shall do and anything more that you ask.
...
- My friend, your anxiety turned to fear, and your fear turned to sorrow. But sorrow is better than fear. For fear impoverishes always, while sorrow may enrich.
Kumalo looked at him, with an intensity of gaze that was strange in so humble a man, and hard to encounter.
- I do not know that I am enriched, he said.
- No one can comprehend the ways of God, said Father Vincent desperately.
Kumalo looked at him, not bitterly or accusingly or reproachfully.
- It seems that God has turned from me, he said.
- Stop, cried Father Vincent. You are beside yourself. Go and pray, go and rest. And do not judge your son too quickly. He too is shocked into silence, maybe.
Kumalo stood up. I trust that it is so, he said, but I have no hope any more. What did you say I must do? Yes, pray and rest.
There was no mockery in his voice, and Father Vincent knew that it was not in this man's nature to speak mockingly. But so mocking were the words that the priest caught him by the arm, and said to him urgently, sit down, I must speak to you as a priest.
When Kumalo had sat down, Father Vincent said to him, yes, I said pray and rest. Even if it is only words that you pray, and even if your resting is only a lying on a bed. And do not pray for yourself, and do not pray to understand the ways of God. For they are secret. Who knows what life is, for life is a secret. And why you have compassion for a girl, when you yourself receive no compassion, that is a secret. And why you go on, when it would seem better to die, that is a secret. Do not pray and think about these things now, there will be other times. Pray for Gertrude, and for her child, and for the girl that is to be your son's wife, and for the child that will be your grandchild. Pray for your wife and all at Ndotsheni. Pray for the woman and the children that are bereaved. Pray for the soul of him who was killed. Pray for us at the Mission House, and for those at Ezenzeleni, who try to rebuild in a place of destruction. Pray for your own rebuilding. Pray for all white people, those who do justice, and those who would do justice if they were not afraid. And do not fear to pray for your son, and for his amendment.
- I hear you, said Kumalo humbly.
- And give thanks where you can give thanks. For nothing is better. Is there not your wife, and Mrs. Lithebe, and Msimangu, and this young white man at the reformatory? And now my son, go and pray, go and rest.
He helped the old man to his feet, and gave him his hat. And when Kumalo would have thanked him, he said, we do what is in us, and why it is in us, that is also a secret. It is Christ in us, crying that men may be succoured and forgiven, even when He Himself is forsaken.
He led the old man to the door of the Mission, and there parted from him.
- I shall pray for you, he said, night and day. That I shall do and anything more that you ask.
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Friday, April 22, 2005
here's a little explanation of the twist on psalm 23 from below, that i emailed to jesse awhile ago. i'm not sure how accurate or insightful it is, but it's my understanding of the francis schaeffer's line of thought:
sheep means mankind in general, belief that somewhere along the line, man will figure out ultimate meaning and stuff, whether or not it happens in your lifetime. after awhile people came to the conclusion that man's intelligence can't produce actual meaning but can only reduce everything to mechanics. this inevitably leads to complete despair or insanity (nietzche, da vinci), so people gradually stopped trying to find meaning in the area of reason and started looking towards non-reason. this shift was illustrated with kierkegaard, who was one of the first philosophers to place faith and meaning solely and completely in the category of irrationality.
this led to 'everything is my shepherd', where everything means nature and primitive man; return to basics, and in a sense, absurdity. that is, throw off rational thought and thought processes. this idea is similar to eastern religions in some ways, like how in buddhism everything's part of the same fabric or something like that. another part of 'everything is my shepherd' is how people were reduced from having absolute standards to judge the things that come through your senses to knowing only what your senses tell you (what IS, is all there is - so everything that is, is right, and is my shepherd), to not even being sure that what your senses tell you about the world around is really what's there. that transitioned into 'nothing is my shepherd.'
...
sheep means mankind in general, belief that somewhere along the line, man will figure out ultimate meaning and stuff, whether or not it happens in your lifetime. after awhile people came to the conclusion that man's intelligence can't produce actual meaning but can only reduce everything to mechanics. this inevitably leads to complete despair or insanity (nietzche, da vinci), so people gradually stopped trying to find meaning in the area of reason and started looking towards non-reason. this shift was illustrated with kierkegaard, who was one of the first philosophers to place faith and meaning solely and completely in the category of irrationality.
this led to 'everything is my shepherd', where everything means nature and primitive man; return to basics, and in a sense, absurdity. that is, throw off rational thought and thought processes. this idea is similar to eastern religions in some ways, like how in buddhism everything's part of the same fabric or something like that. another part of 'everything is my shepherd' is how people were reduced from having absolute standards to judge the things that come through your senses to knowing only what your senses tell you (what IS, is all there is - so everything that is, is right, and is my shepherd), to not even being sure that what your senses tell you about the world around is really what's there. that transitioned into 'nothing is my shepherd.'
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