Words of Innocence and Experience

Since I’m currently helping Professor Viphavee rating the students’ essays, I’m constantly reminded of the pieces I had written in the past. This would possibly sound self-satisfying, but reading my past compositions again this evening, I was struck by the beauty of the words as well as the heart and soul I was able to put into the writing. That was why I said studying in the TESOL program is mind-damaging, for I am not receiving any critical or inspiring input. At first I was extremely frustrated with the meaninglessness of the TESOL studies, but as time proceeds, I gradually got used to the nature of them and acquired the ability to produce redundant, mindless, and forced papers on my own, even when I didn’t put my heart in the process.

If not for the personal crises happening in the first half of 2007, the urge to write might have still possessed me to this day. Unfortunately, one person’s accusation of me being too fantastical and dreamy extinguished the creative ardor in my heart, and I reflected less and less on the things going on around me; instead, I numbly went with the stream.

Time heals, and I realize what has been missing in the previous six months of my life–creative spirit.

“With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
But there’s nothing in it
And you’ll ask yourself

Where is my mind?”
–The Pixies “Where Is My Mind?”

Well, at least there is something I DID learn in my foolish, lamenting days–the diversity and power of rock music. If I am able to restore my literary sensibility, I’d love to combine it with the rock n’ roll fervor, as both have become integral elements of my way of thinking.

It’s been a long time since I posted anything on this blog. I had been lazy in the previous semester and wrote on my Chinese blog and BBS board instead.

However, I suppose I’ve always suffered from a bout of “graphomania,” as termed by Kundera, the urge to write books. I tried to analyze the reasons for my obsession with being an author and came up with some explanations.
Firstly, I need to write things down so that forgetting them will not worry me. Secondly, similar to what Kundera says in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, I only have this life to live. Thus, I personalize and beautify things even though I’m quite certain that most of them are merely coincidences. Writing them down grants them a curious air of significance.

Many things happened to me last semester, some of which are sublime to me. Having experienced inexplicable, traumatic incidents, I’m like the ancient mariner who needs to have his stories heard; in my case, read.

After finding proper pseudonyms for the people I encountered, I may start writing. Stay tuned~ (Hopefully, I won’t break the promise).