今天有人对我说：想起你，全是开心。

我傻傻地觉得，这是一件值得记录的事吧。

 

这个无法停止做一个坏蛋的人对我说：不要为爱受苦。
我说，但至少受苦之前我都快乐过。

 

没有人喜欢为爱受苦。
只是大多数时候，我们并没有选择。

是基因么？还是一些别的什么？
反正是那些我不了解的东西，决定了一个人的太多。

 

 

“想起你，全是开心。”
我为这句话带给我的满足感到奇怪，却又贪婪地希望那些已经从生命里走出去的人，在想起我的时候，都是这样。

 

 

 

 

 

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一些毕业相片的链接 & preview：

myself:
http://photo.renren.com/getalbum.do?id=338019153&owner=223138878

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

with my dearest friends:
http://photo.renren.com/getalbum.do?id=339678211&owner=223138878

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1931619,00.html

 

Why do I keep repasting articles about him? I didn't mean to do so but they just all happen to make me think. And every time I admire him a bit more.

At least thinking about this kind of thing is good for my health, compared with thinking about myself and my own life.

 

 

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Han Han: China's Literary Bad Boy

 

 

By SIMON ELEGANTMonday, Nov. 02, 2009

 

 

On a recent afternoon at the Shanghai Tianma Circuit race-car track, the 1,000-strong crowd was treated to the sight of one of the competitors — still dressed in his driver's jumpsuit — walking slowly past the officials' stand, one arm held aloft with the middle finger of his hand extended. "My only regret," he later wrote on his blog, "is that I couldn't show both fingers at the same time because I happened to be having a phone conversation."

 

The driver was 26-year-old Han Han: best-selling novelist, champion amateur race-car driver, wildly popular blogger and, as his self-consciously provocative antics at the track underlined, China's most media-savvy celebrity rebel. Since 2000, when he burst onto China's literary scene at the age of 17 with his first best seller, Triple Gate, Han has shrewdly mined a seam of youthful resentment and anomie through his stories of anguished characters in their late teens and early 20s. One of China's top-earning authors, he is widely seen as a torchbearer for the generation born after the beginning of the country's opening to the outside world, a group the Chinese call the "post-'80s generation": apolitical, money- and status-obsessed children of the country's explosive economic boom. Even China's most notorious anti-Establishment figure, 52-year-old artist and activist Ai Weiwei, called Han "brave, clear-minded, dynamic and humorous" and predicted that he would be the "gravedigger" for the older generation of writers and artists.

Han, a high school dropout, has built a franchise by tweaking his elders, once stating, "No matter how rude and immature they are, how unskillfully they write, the future literary world belongs to the post-'80s generation. They must be more arrogant. A writer must be arrogant." Yet despite his youthful bravado, Han, who has published 14 books and anthologies, generally stays away from sensitive issues such as democracy and human rights. His calculated rebelliousness, says Lydia Liu, a professor of Chinese and Comparative Literature at Columbia University, exemplifies the unspoken compact his generation has forged with the ruling Communist Party: Leave us alone to have fun and we won't challenge your right to run the country. "He is known for being a sharp critic of the government and the Establishment but he isn't really," says Liu. Instead, she says, Han is a willing participant in a process that channels the disaffected energy of youth into consumerism. "The language in his novels and the narrative strategies are very easy to read," says Liu. "Basically it's all the same book."

 

 

In person, Han, the son of an editor of a small Shanghai newspaper, is carefully groomed in an epicene, metrosexual way that is unusual among Chinese males of his age. Affable if slightly wary, he is an old hand at interviews, deftly batting away questions that don't suit him, including most concerning the current state of Chinese literature and his place in it. "It's stupid to try to evaluate one's own works," he says, lacing his answer with frequent expletives. "If you are too humble, people won't take you seriously; and if you think too highly of yourself, it's not good for you either." As for other writers, Han flaps a manicured hand: "I don't do this kind of comparison. And frankly, I don't think your readers will be interested in Chinese literature at all." Nor is he. "I don't read fiction now," he says. "All I read are magazines. I stopped reading books seven to eight years ago. I think I've read enough."

 

 

If Han seems flippantly dismissive on the subject of fiction, social and political issues draw a more serious response. Asked whether China will ever have a democratic system of government, Han becomes pensive: "I can accept the fact that there's no real democracy or multiparty system in this country in the foreseeable future. There are more urgent and realistic issues, such as press and cultural freedom. At least those issues are not hopeless. And I prefer doing things that are not hopeless."

 

 

 

Certainly, his fellow Netizens feel that his efforts are by no means hopeless. Han's blog, which has registered well over 200 million hits since it was started in 2006, making him one of the most popular bloggers on the planet, covers everything from the minutiae of the amateur racing world to diatribes about the hot social issue of the day on the Internet. "Neither fame nor wealth have changed his honesty or the sharpness of his criticism," says novelist Zhang Yueran of Han. "To me he's like the little boy in The Emperor's New Clothes, whose provocative attitude doesn't allow people to be self-satisfied."

 

 

At a time when China's authorities appear to be continually increasing censorship of the Internet, it's remarkable that Han has not been muzzled. But there apparently are limits even for rebels with no particular cause. Han's latest project is a literary magazine that remains nameless following a rejection by the government of Han's proposed title, Renaissance of Art and Literature. Asked why the title was rejected, he blurts an expletive and launches into a characteristic rant: "Oftentimes [the authorities] are just messed up in the head. No one knows what they are thinking." Least of all Han. "Lots of people ask me how I strike a balance in my writing and not annoy the authorities," he says. "The answer is, I don't know." Perhaps not, but this ignorance is bliss — for it allows Han to remain popular both with China's hundreds of millions of readers and the authorities who would control what they read.

 

 

— with reporting by Jessie Jiang / Beijing

 

 

 

 

 

 

每个人只能活一次，如果你珍惜你短暂的人生，那么请你记住：你的人生是你每天和谁在一起、过着什么样的日子，而不是你梦想和谁在一起、你希望过着怎样的日子。

将人生快乐掌握在自己手里的秘诀在于：你要有一些别人不能帮你否定的东西，或者，你要有不让别人替你否定你自己的勇气。


我一个朋友说过，我们跟别人交往，是为了从对方那里收听到关于我们自己的消息。所以人是不能自成一国的，你存在的意义，你要从别人对你的需要那里得到肯定。



爱因斯坦说过，我知道的越多，就越感到自己的无知。而我的问题是：我读的报纸越多，我越感到这个世界上可以让我确信无疑地说“是的，就是这样”的事情，又少了一样。



在做选择的时候，并不存在最好或最坏的选项，只存在你坚持的选项和你放弃的选项。放弃的选项不要再想，将你坚持的选项努力做到最好，让它变成你最好的选项。



但是比菲利普迪克伟大得多的爱因斯坦说，过去时间里发生的每一件事，它们不会消失，它们永驻时空。你只是无法回去重访。

我不相信所有破碎的关系都能修补，因为搞砸一段关系一个人就能完成，而修补一段关系，需要两个人一起做巨大的付出。你要改变你的任性很难，而要你的男朋友相信你能改变更加难，破碎之后补起来的关系会变得脆弱、充满怀疑、更容易放弃。维修破关系的成本比开始一段新关系大得太多。所以我的意见是：放过你男朋友吧，从这件事中学到你的教训，然后在下一段关系中，要珍惜别人的爱、信任和容忍。


令前男友、前女友变得宝贵的地方在于我们和他们一起度过的人生，在人生无可奈何地逝去之际，我们把我们对于过去时光的怀念和依恋，投射到了和我们一起度过这些人生的人和物体身上。所以前女友是危险的。当年爱尔兰人反对英国统治的时候说一个好的英国人是死的英国人。我觉得对每一个现女友来说，一个好的前女友，是再也不联系的前女友。

 

 

 

很久没有放相片了。

今天在大围站接到爸妈，俩人见到我的第一句话都是：怎么这么瘦了？！
天啊，如果这句话不是从爹娘嘴里说出来，该是多么地雀跃人心啊！

我知道毕业典礼很没劲，于是我再十分诚恳地亲身验证了这份没劲。
坐在台下的时候，并不是没有感触的。而更多的时候我只是在等待这一切的结束。

这个世界上有太多的事情我们都不明白为什么，却一直在做。
正如我们不明白毕业了为什么要穿着这么奇怪的袍子，我们只是穿上，告诉自己这样很好看。
正如我们不明白毕业了为什么要抱着一只熊，我们只是抱着也穿着奇怪袍子的它，告诉自己它很可爱。

或许这样的仪式并没有无懈可击的意义，
或许它最大的意义，就是让每一个身处其中的人都自愿为其赋予一层莫须有的意义。

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

翘掉了一整天的课跑回来,和Amelie在深圳的街上晃了一天。

从理发店出来，我们找了几圈都找不到一个可以舒舒服服坐下来抽一根烟的地方。最后只好买了喝的蹲在路边。

街上很吵，人很多。有一个乞讨的老太太站在我们面前五分钟后，无奈地离开。

那一瞬间，突然觉得很悲凉。一个活过大半辈子的老人站在两个蹲在路边吐烟的少女前，那是什么样的感觉？

我的话越来越少。

或许在我自认为忍受着旁人的“多话”的时候，别人也正忍受着我的“无话”吧。

 

 

 

每天干的最勤的事就是更新状态。
改完msn改抠抠，改完抠抠改校内，改完校内改twitter，哪儿都改了，还都改得不一样了，却依旧写不出什么像样的成段的有逻辑的文字。

 

其实我真的很久没有认真地写过什么了。
承认吧，对于装逼这件事，我是越来越有心无力了。尤其是有时候看到别人写的一些比较sentimental的东西，都会觉得…ewww. 不是我说，在诸如校内之地那么认真表达那么内的“内心”，Point是？

 

 

这两天整个人又浮躁了起来。只想趴在电脑前煲house，对学业没了念想，对文娱活动的欲望见长。这点看来我还是挺双子的，那么努力的状态我根本坚持不了，不出三个月，原形毕露。

 

 

最近上课讲一些我学过的内容的时候，脑子里会很频繁地闪现出一些本科的画面。比如考完accounting的大家一起去lg1边吃下午茶边大骂老师不厚道cash flow又没der平；比如那么多个在4楼泡图书馆的日日夜夜，我尤其记得桌子上两个计算器一瓶红牛一罐咖啡的那张相片，在我被偷掉的手机里，我有时候还是蛮努力的；还有很多个比如，我只是不想再拿出来煽情了。我想这是一种正正好的距离，让我在再想起那四年的时候，会相信它真的是生命里的四年，而不是一个遥远的点。有时候我也怀疑自己对科大的漠视来自何处，是因为它不好，还是那时候的我不好？是它令我变得不好，还是那些变化不管在哪里都会发生？

说了这么多其实只是想说，我还挺想科大的。虽然我们都知道这只是某类装逼人种的对过去不自控的追味而已。

所以，我又有什么理由不对明天充满期盼呢？当那么糟糕的过去都可以变成今天淡淡的，whatever。

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“在我们漫长的生命历程里，可能，爱情会以很多不同的姿态在我们不同的年龄阶段出现。可能，你需要相信爱情但不能依赖爱情。
可能，还有很多比爱与不爱，更重要的事情。”

 

 

看到这句话，我突然明白那些所有在爱情里死去活来的人犯的共同的一个错误是，依赖爱情，却不相信爱情。

一年前的我，还沉溺在黑暗里，为那个被自己认定是“唯一”的人的离开而深陷绝望。

而事实是，现在的我好好的。

一个相信爱情的人，是充满希望的。她不会因为害怕再没有人可以靠近自己的灵魂而悲伤。也不会因为一段感情的逝去而停止让别人靠近。她对每一个停靠的人心存感激。

相信爱情，却不依赖她。或许，这才是年轻的好吧。