Words of Innocence and Experience

You know that silence is loud
When all you hear is your heart
And I wanted so badly just to be a part
Of something strong and true
But I was scared and left it all behind
–Michelle Branch “Here with Me”

One of the essays Professor Wu assigned us to read is one on Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets from the Portuguese. Although she is a widely recognized poet, this sonnet sequence has long been overlooked because people are embarrassed by it–being overly personal. Also, it reverses the sexual roles in poetry.

It occurred to me that women were not supposed to talk in the past. Women should be silent, meek, and satisfied with their position as the objects of men’s love. When a woman states her love outrightly, people think that it should be kept in private.

I’d admit that I was not truly impressed with Ms. Barrett’s poetry until after reading the essay. What is outstanding is that Ms. Barrett breaks the convention of women’s silence and speaks of her love in various approaches, tones, metaphors, and literary allusions. Besides, her story was true. Emily Dickinson may be as talented as Elizabeth Barrett Browning, but the authenticity of her love(s) is/are debated.

As a female, I never thought that my love could not be spoken of. I mean, it is not that whenever I fall in love with someone, I should confess to him immediately. Rather, I thought it wouldn’t hurt if I write about the feelings. I wrote some lame poems back when I was a freshman, in the middle of an illusory crush, and there are bits of scattered pieces which can be found here on this site. The thought that it might embarrass people never came into my mind.

It doesn’t matter. The taboo has long been broken. I wish I could be as eloquent as Ms. Barrett is. However, perhaps words would not add any more charm to me. Not every woman writer/poet can meet a Robert Browning, after all.

Even the stars shine brighter tonight
Nothing’s impossible
–Depeche Mode “Nothing’s Impossible”

It turned out that I passed the first round of the graduate school entrace exam. I was exhiliarated when I found out about the news. My modesty wanted to keep the news hidden, while my vanity propelled me to spread the news to everyone. I told several people about it, and many others just saw it on the Internet.

People have given me all kinds of congratulations. Some of them are sweet, and some of them are a little… to put it mildly, out of place. It was not that I wanted attention so that I decided to graduate ahead and get myself accepted to graduate school early, but I was pushed by parental expectations and life’s cruel hands. Anyway, it was a good news, after all.

There’s still an interview to go. Perhaps Professor Katchen would be the interviewer. It would be nice to see her and talk to her again. Oh, and I must study the text book Teaching by Principles to prevent the embarrassment of not knowing the terms for English Instruction.

I was not sure about my performance on the other entrace exam I took for interpretation in NTNU. I managed to finish the test just in time and translation has hardly been an arduous task to me, but students taking the exam must excel in it as well. Who knows? Perhaps I will have the luck once more.

Now I find that most of the time
Love’s not enough in itself
–Depeche Mode “Love in Itself”

This place is seriously in lack of pictures, so here’s one full of love.

Sometimes friendships are very puzzling. You consider someone to be your friend, and you get along with him/her better and better as the feeling of acquaintance grows. However, something testing your friendship will occur, shaking your faith in him/her.

Confucius defines three types of friends as possitive friends–those who are either upright, forgiving, or wise. Yet when you start to evaluate what beneficial influences a friend can bring to you, isn’t it cold and business-like?

Well, at least friends should care about one another. But recently I feel that some of my ‘friends’ don’t care for me at all. They come in search of me whenever they need something from me, while most of the time they are not concerned about my well-being. Are those people my friends?

It doesn’t matter. However caring and helpful a person is, she can become extremely tired and skeptical of her friends’ intentions. She know who are the ones really caring for her and who are the ones she really cares for.

The things that I know
Nobody told me
The seeds that are sown
They still control me
–George Michael “The Strangest Thing”

Although one and a half week has elapsed since I took the entrance exam right on campus, at my school NTHU, something in the back of my mind propels me to note the occurences down.

The exam was held on Saturday. Since I virtually did not study whatsoever for the exam, I should’ve tried to make amends on the last day. Unfortunately, I didn’t. I opened the Word file of one of my favorite Gone with the Wind fanfictions and started reading it from the beggining to the end, having not read it in entirety before. Although guilty and antsy, I assured myself that at least I was reading English.

I persisted in finishing reading the story so that I ended up going to bed at one a.m. I woke up at eight the next morning, feeling not exactly refreshed but all right. I finally picked up my textbook Introduction to Language and began flipping through the pages absent-mindedly.

The exam was due at 10:20, but I left the dormitory early. Not wanting anyone to recognize me, particularly my professors, I wore glasses to the exam. I climbed up the mountains to the Humanity Science Building as usual, as if attending a regular class. It was a warm and sunny day and the campus glowed with life. It was not until I reached the building did I panick. I’ve never seen so many people in the building, which has been dark and dreary. Everyone was fixated on their studies, and I barely studied at all. The desire to abandon the test overwhelmed me, the anxiety strenghthened when I couldn’t find the classroom. Yet as long as I did, I stayed, trying to gather my composure.

The first test was on Liguistics. The heavy burden on my mind was lifted when I scanned through the questions on the test sheet, most of which comprehensible to me. After finishing taking the test, there was only one question about which I have no clue. My heart leapt with joy and a sudden sense of haughtiness fill my veins.

I bought some noodles at the cafeteria and paced back to the dorm. I wondered how many students were as at ease as I was.

The second test was on Applied Liguistics, along with some bits of Social Liguistics and English Instruction. Since I did not take courses about the latter two subjects, I do not know how to answer the questions concerning them. All of a sudden I began making up stories. I was certain that my lame answers would enrage the professors, yet I could not stand leaving the sheet with so much blank space. After the test was over, I became really tired, wishing the exam to be over at the moment.

The final test was English composition. I sighed with relief when I saw that I was only asked to summarize an article and write a response to it. The article, which was on English Instruction, was a lot easier to understand than the essays on literature I am used to reading. However, it stabbed at my heart ruthlessly since it is the answer to one of the questions from the previous test, indicating my mistake. Immediately I wiped the negative feelings off my mind and started reading. At the first reading, my eyes see through the words but could not get their meaning. I felt like screaming. Yet when I ventured for the second time, everything made sense.

When the exam was over, I rushed down the mountains as quickly as I could and managed to catch the bus to Taichung, my hometown. I wanted to sleep my exhausion off, yet my brain was restless even with closed eyelids. I did not feel happy or sad, just undeniable numbness.

I had no idea if I did OK on the tests. I still don’t know now. English Instruction has always been a field which I try my best to avoid due to lack of interest. However, for convenience’s sake, I signed up for the exam and took it eventually. If I am admitted, isn’t it extremely unfair to those who have persevered a lot? It doesn’t matter. The result has not been announced yet, and I’ve been treated horribly most of my life. I need a miracle, after all.

To put it in words
To write it down
That is walking on hallowed ground
But it’s my duty
I’m a missionary
–Depeche Mode “Sacred”

So I actually have readers! I’m so happy! I must continue writing, as what I said in the previous post.

Some shameless self-complacency…

All of those young lives betrayed
All for a children’s crusade
–Sting “Children’s Crusade”

Although I’ve only taken 17 credits this semester, the workload is heavy. I’m required to read the class materials before coming to the class and sometimes asked to watch the related videos. Moreover, since I’m going to bid my farewell to the university soon, I feel the need to use the library properly. The upcoming graduate school exams are also over the horizon. More often than not, I wonder where Time has gone.

Time is so scarce that I didn’t have time to write down my feelings at the entrace exams in NTHU or read my beloved blogs. As I’m typing this entry, a couple of minutes have also elapsed. Well, I must spend more time here since this would serve as a record for the last few months of my college life.

I should discuss about the entrace exams I took pretty soon.

I can hear your soul crying
Listen to your spirit sighing
I can feel your desperation
Emotional deprivation

Let yourself go
Let yourself go
Let your feelings show
–Depeche Mode “Freestate”

I met some people on MySpace. Some of them are nice and send greetings on a regular basis.

To put it explicitly, the main reason why people join MySpace is to win attention, whether in a good or bad sense. I joined partly to follow the trend, and partly to meet new people.

One guy sent me a message the other day and asked for my MSN. He seems eager to know more about me, so I gave him my contact information. We talked several times, but I found him rude and pretentious. Therefore, even though I knew he was online, I never sent him a message myself.

One night he suddenly popped in and hurled various curses at me. Unable to bear the insult, I shot back by saying “Even though I have you on my list, it doesn’t mean I have the responsibility to chat with you every night.” Still, the Internet is a good retreat to turn to when people feel extremely lonely.

He replied, “Yes, it does!” and started cursing again. In the end, I had to block him.

Although I never liked that guy, it suddenly occurred to me that he must have been really lonely so as to spent so much time online, waiting to meet someone special. He wanted too much attention to the post of annoying others.

On MySpace, it is apparent to see that some people really need constant reassurance by asking for comments and so on. In a way, it’s quite charming. I guess all Internet users need some kind of attention. We get together in forums and message boards to achieve a sense of community. However, there are rules to follow. If one doesn’t respect people, he or she is bound to be excluded.