Life Is Long Theorem

“ Life is short.” As a matter of fact, it is not short at all, on the contrary, life is long enough to make you feel sick of the 3 dimensional world.

The other day I was coughing so hard that the scene of myself dying just came cross my mind. Of course I was not dying, I know that I probably knew that but, even though, the thought terrified me anyway. If I were that unfortunate and died from coughing, just like what comes to poor Monsieur Forestier in Bel Ami, such sorrow would have filled my chest, so heavy that I could barely breathe, although I could not by any means. There were people who immediately showed up, telling me how much I did not wish to leave the earth, to travel the land beyond, and to be punished for whatsoever I had done. The image of my parents disturbed me the most, for certain reasons, I believe my death was not important at all compared to my failure of making them proud.  Indeed that altogether would be such dread for them. My father once told me, after I showed him no will of having a child, that raising a child meant more than just feeding him, educating him, and relying on him. “ It’s about the hope of the future, you see,” said my father, looking away. It was, I suppose, the first time he ever said some thing, touchy. Seriously, he has never said “ I love you” either to me or to my mother, according to my unreliable but stable memory, which is totally fine because such thing, under the surface, we all know, but feel unnecessary to point it out. Euphemism might be well used in describing an opposite situation. There, you see, I am kind of living my life for my parents although actually it is still for myself. Weird desires rise from the dark ooze at the bottom of my heart, like evil bubbles filled with gases that fatal. I finish a deed to satisfy my desire but the desire itself really does not make me happy. I am only doing it because it is my desire. Life becomes a struggle, therefore, since what I am doing to satisfy me does not do the job. Simply saying, I do what I want to do, which is one hundred percent true, but what I want to do is merely what I think what I want to do and  doing that does not increase my happiness by any rate. So, if I died at this moment while I am typing crazily, which is scaring me, but I might feel happy about it for the fact that it is not what normally delights me. Usual delights are not delights anymore in this case, so trying some thing completely different could be a method to walk out of the maze: what-do-I-want-and-what-makes-me-happy. I suspect that I have tried many methods to please myself, and please do not worry, I am not that kind of serial killer who merely kill for fun. The joy of killing one’s own kind(biologically) is totally beyond my comprehension because I believe our instincts are on the favor of thriving the whole race. However, the huge population of man kind could possibly explain the fun in multi-homicide. I decided to dropped the topic few seconds ago for the potential danger was obvious, but some thing changed my mind. Yes, if that is so, one should starts with him or herself. Yet, if this one, lets say, the enlightened one is killed before he or she could possibly decrease the population more, the originally discussed joy would be lost. Since this is growing dangerous again, we shall stop discussing for now. 

So, death could be one subject that I want to achieve, but I will probably never know because I have no clue what it is going to be afterward. Here comes the ultimate discussion again: even if I can sense anything after my descending, I could be not aware whether I am feeling what I am feeling. Once again, I do not know what it is going to be like so I shall make no guess. Back to the point, I do not want to die, for some reason I do not know(biological explanation is suspected), so I have to go through the whole thing called life. Now, average life span is 80 years, I suppose(For it does not greatly matter, I can keep it vague). I have 18 years and several months and days. The way I feel the passing of the time is that the person as I lived in the past 2 second look less intelligent than  the guy was here 1 second ago. As the time length grows longer away from now, or a imaginary point, the moment I assume is “now”, the “me” is illustrated idiotic, to me(which explains the phrase “live now” in a funny way). For some years I(then) was considered as an absolute retard by myself(now). Now the difficulty of discussing has been raised for the fact that I doubt whether my brain was working or not right after my birth. If it was working, it must have been working poorly because I cannot find any piece of information recorded from that period of time in my brain. (P.S. I just realize the possibility of time traveling if the world functions as the way that I believe it does) (P.P.S. In the way I believe it is, in my world, I can do whatever I want. I mean, free from all the limitations in this world, which is also a version of my world. According to Kant’s definition of freedom, “free from the Laws”, I gain freedom. The only problem is the limitations in this version of world. I will call it the General Version of My World from now on. It is my world, of which I am sure. But why the rules applying are out of my control? I shall figure it out someday) Year as a unit is of no efficiency, let me create another universal unit, pom. Pom is one unit length of time between the significances in an individual’s memory. Although the time under common sense may varies from that between the first time one discoveries an essential conception and the first time one creates a new concept and that between the first time one touches snow and the first time, or second time(the significance various, depending on personal experience) one eats solid food. At least in my mind, one pom is of equal length with another. The unit year does not apply in the real world because the concept of time simply does not exist. Assuming death is the final significance of an individual, the total length of the life should be the amount of the poms. When one observes the significances of another’s, who is dead, life, it is easy for him, or her, the observer to put them together and to add them up. That is the reason why it is generally believed that life is short. However, when one is observing his or her own life, it is equally easy to see all the significances that have happened in the life before the point now, the others are yet to come and one does not know when. And the nearest pom, which covers the point now, in the future is forever long.  

The Procedure of Room Cleaning

IT'S NOT ABOUT TRAVELING in Chicago

AT CHICAGO O' HARE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT,

it made me feel good when everyone else was reading on an electric device while I was reading on papers. In the world that more than half of the whole population cannot survive without daily usage of phones, tabs, pads or anything else, reading paper news seems so classy, and especially in an international airport.

THE PORTUGUESE WELL-DRESSED GUY,

I arrived at the hotel I was going to check in. However, the record showed I booked a room for the day after that so I was nervous because I could be no where to staty. The snow was not like what it should feel back in the city where I came from, and there hadn't snowed for 2 years. More like sand gains, light small snow flakes were not sticky at all so as the wind carried them around, they didn't tend to settle down. 

STAYING IN A ROOM IN A HOTEL IS DEFINITELY NOT

the way I would spend the fist night in a city that I had never explored. Seriously, I had no where to do and I had no idea whether I had any friend living in Chicago. " Just wonder around, I guess." What is fun in "wondering around"? Well it is actually very engaging for I had never been in a city else than Springfield. And compared to the little and peaceful town, Chicago was truly a BIG city but the conditions of some public utility were much poorer. 

THE CHICAGO RIVER

ran through the middle of the city. I was so grateful that they still had all the Christmas decorations on so the view were really enjoyable with all the lights on.

It WAS AT THE BACK OF SOME BUILDING 

near the river where I found that little pretty spot. Supposed to be a park, it had no visitor for at least hours, which could be deduced from the depth of the snow cover. Why would any one want to come out and hang out in a outdoor park like that in a snowy night? I would probably be the only soul.

FUNNY THING WAS

it did not feel cold at all when I sat on the bench. On the contrast, it actually made me feel, different. Imagine this: in a pretty park decorated with pretty Christmas lights, sitting by yourself, with nobody around... It was GOOD.

THE IRON BRIDGE 

brought me back to the Shanghai 70 years ago. 

ABOVE THE RIVER,

that bridge was being re-constructed in the heavy snow. 

Fortunately, 

there were some random walkers appearing on the streets, which made me feel not that fall-out.

THE NEXT MORNING,

a headache hit me as soon as I woke up and I thought I knew exactly why. However, the morning actually was fresh. Although the the snow did not stop, it was unexpectedly bright, because of all the sunshine reflected by the fallen snow, I guessed. 

Dazzled,

I went to the bathroom and stood in front of mirror, staring at my face for almost a minute then I shook my head, trying to shake off all my fatigue. 

WITH ALL MY SENSE OF DIRECTIONS GAINED IN ESTERN HALF OF EARTH,

I was successfully lost in the frozen city. The funny thing was, I did not really care about missing because I was on a safari anyway.

WHY ON ERATH THE BRIDGE WAS CLOSED,

I was so mad because I did not see the sign completely covered with snow as I stepped on the bridge. Seriously, I would suggest them use something more EYE-CATCHING. 

IT IS FUNNY

whenever I am in warm and isolated room and watching some body out there in the freezing wind, I feel blessed and happy. Besides, I do feel bad for them. However, whenever I am outdoor, in a pouring rain or in a heavy snow, I feel such superiority as the others are passing by in their cars. 

THE BIG SMILING FACE

caught my attention as I passed by a clothing store. Of course, I had no clue who drew that and why but I did know the guy who did that must love his life as much as I love mine. 

WALKING LIKE A WHITE-COLLAR

is absolutely more fun than walking like a winner. I could, I guess, feel the pressure generated by the high buildings, accumulated in the air and going to burst in next moment, but several melting snowflakes on my shoulder just took that feeling away. I mean, this is just the way the world is. Accept and survive.

AT THE MILLENNIUM PARK,

I had no idea why everybody was doing that but I still did the same. As a tourist or a traveler, it was not very nice to not behave like one.

THE FIRST TIME I EVER SKATED ON REAL ICE OUTDOOR.

I mentioned the warm  weather in my home town. It would be highly impossible to imagine a skating center in the middle of downtown. College kids, families and also, visitors could never say bo to this fun. 

WHY SO FEW PEOPLE AT SUCH AN AMAZING PLACE.

The navy pier was strongly recommended by so many friends, so I, sort of, had to pay that necessary vist. Well I do regret going but if there had been more vistor on the clod afternoon, I would be more delighted.

FROM THE SHORE,

you can see the whole city, the buildings, the cars and the lights, everything. And a photo with a city that I like was definitely needed.

HOW COULD I MISS THIS?

She was one of my major reasons to pay this vist, although it was a little awkward. I am not saying that the pose was awkward, but the fact she was not born here and she did not spend her significant days in this city. Whatever.

SUFFERING FROM JET LAG

was not fun at all. Why there would ever be such a thing in universe? Patience, patience is all it takes to heal but still, it was not easy. 

CHICAGO ART INSTITUTE

was the best place I visited in Chicago. I felt the pressure on my chest and the impulse of strong emotions. I had no idea where those feelings came from and why on earth I felt sick but I loved it, either because of the huge variety of the collections or the way the institute was designed. 

ABOUT TIPPING

A friend of mine later told me I should have left some tip on the first day I lived in, in order to encourage the staff to clean your room more carefully, but I do not care. I just left some thing because it made me feel nice.

VACATION DOES NOT ALWAYS MEAN SUNSHINE AND BEACH,

it could be tough enough to discourage people to do so. Snow and mud could be your only companions in the early morning and you have to carry or your laggage on your on. In a way, it was really entertaining.

STARTED IN O' HARE, ENDED IN UNION STATION.

THE END

I am not angry but confused(to the responses from some Chinese net citizens of the 2 students's being murdered on USC campus)

I am not fury, mad or even slightly angry at all after having heard the responses from some Chinese Net-citizens, but confused, deeply, for how some people could possibly become so ridiculously stupid, actually, ignorant, yet they are probably all good at math, maybe even advanced math. This does not make sense to me in any way. People who can type, who can go to the website and read, who can speak and write in a rather difficult language system, act like 3 years old kid feeling good when some other kid has fallen on the ground from his bike and got hurt, instead of him, who does not have a bike. Yet they are not quite satisfied. They wish all the kids who have bikes fall and get hurt. Why would they feel happy seeing the other people who have absolutely no business with them suffer? It is so strange because even the very first human beings who had lived in ancient societies or even earlier, in Paleolithic Age were seeking a way to archive the greatest amount of happiness for the whole group. What are they? Maybe I cannot say them ignorant because the word ignorance perhaps cannot be applied to creatures other than human beings, even if they can speak, walk and eating shit, which are not necessarily the absolute qualifications for being a human. Besides, I do not see according to what they have drawn their conclusions.


I'm confused.
I'm not angry, at all,
but what's the fucking matter with our society?!

A Little Accident

Years ago I joined the American Army and got seriously injured in a battle in Afghan. I had been so tired of that bloody war. It was not my being a coward but the thick black smoke, the thunder-loud sound of bombs that kept falling on the ground randomly and the dust lifted by the hot wind produced by powerful bombs together with mental pieces were able to drive every single brave soldier on the battlefield crazy. I can still recall how Johnson, a very brave officer and good man, bagged me to shoot him at his head to end his pain after his being hit by a stick bomb some one on the other side had thrown in our trench. Watching his bowels spilling out, I could do nothing but give him all morphine I had prepared for myself. On the second day, I got my left leg hit by an unconscious bullet. How lucky I was, leaving that hell with only one leg injured. I could not help think in that way though the thought makes me sick. Instead going back to America, I came to England and shared a room with a strange behaving man, and also a ridiculously smart and strong-minded gentleman, Sherlock Holmes, who had the pride I left behind in Afghan.

       I was on my way to Harry’s Bar and Grill on E India Road for dinner with my new bride in a casual carriage that was very common in London. My marriage had drifted me away with my old roomie. I could not deny it that living without Holmes’s great adventures made my life so relaxing and comfortable. I went to my little clinic, having several patients every day and drove back home to give a kiss to Mary, Mrs. Watson, after work. Our house and garden were taken care of by my lovely and loving wife and every time I went home, I felt something that I could never feel while being beside Sherlock Holmes, safety. All of a sudden, I heard some one shout my name with a strong, firm and magnetic voice, just the voice a man should have, while we were riding down Peterson Street, which was parallel to Baker Street with a block in between. “ Mary dear, if you would excuse me...”

       There is no way that I cannot recognize his voice for however long we have not talked to each other.

       “ Oh doctor, wedlock suits you very well.” Said Holmes standing on the side walk cheerfully as I stepped out of my carriage and walked toward him while trying not to knock on some passers-by who were not paying attention, with his arms open like going to hug some one and holding the lead stick in his right hand. He looks well. That’s good. That was what I thought for the very moment when I saw him.

       “ Sherlock, have I ever mentioned how much I liked your hat?” I really do.

       “ John, you never need to say it,” smiled him, looking so confident, and almost proud, “ you know that.”

      “ Alas, can I have a little privacy? You know it really made me feel better when you caught a cold and could not speak for a week. I felt like a man who had secrets in that week, which increased my charm immensely.”

       “ Dr. Watson, you are indeed attractive. Look at the pretty lady sitting in your carriage, such a kind woman and wife. A careless man like you who had never shaved his face completely before getting married now dresses in a beautifully tailored suit, which, oh she has also sewed up an extra button under your right collar. And those shoes that have been oiled every day, not mentioning that they are from Henry Pole & Co. In addition, the sulfurous smell that had long been with you is gone, entirely. I believe that credit should be Mary’s since you’d never admitted your possession of the unpleasant smell.”

       “ Stop it, the Great Sherlock Holmes, please. I certainly know what you can do but I’d like to be a fool who dose not know his life has all been known by another crystal-clearly like being painted on a 40-inched paper.” I knew if I had not stopped him at that point, he could keep doing this until there was nothing he did not know about me.

       Sherlock laughed out. “ My sincere apology, doctor. The last thing, um, forget about it.”

       “ How did you know that carriage is mine?” That was the question had confused me since I heard him shout my name. “ There are at least one thousand 2-horsed carriage exactly like this one in London.”

       He looked at my showing a confused face, and soon he burst into laughter. “ Therefore it must be your darling wife who has had ‘WATSON’ engraved in the back wooden board of the carriage.”

       I turned my face to the carriage. Apparently he was right. He always is. Mary waved her hands at us. “It is not the first time for me to feel like a fool anyway.” I turned my face back saying.

       “ John, now I need to tell you an very interesting case. Not here though, of course.” Sherlock’s face suddenly turned into serious. “ Will you be good enough to come by our chamber, well, my, this evening at about 9:00?”

       “ I’d better check in with Mary.”

       “ Come on, John! You were a soldier who would never be frightened by bullets and bombs and now you need to ask your wife’s permission to meet an old friend? Besides I know Mary is kind enough to let me occupy her husband for several hours.”

       “ I’ll meet you there.”

“ Good.”

 He shook my hand and turned his back to me and started off. When he took 2 steps, he paused, turned around, bowed slowly with his nice hat in his left hand and said, “ It would be a shame for me if I left without saying congratulations. Sincerely, I feel so happy for you my friend. ” After he had successfully made me like a fool for the third time, he was about to leave.

“ Hey, Sherlock! What did you mean by ‘congratulations’? How did you know I fell down because of the stupid solid soap? So you are teasing me right? You are teasing me.”

I could only see his left hand waving in the air and he had completely sunk into the crowd. Again. Well, since I could never follow him anyway, I decided to let it go. It took 3 steps for me to not think about it, another 3 steps for me to totally forget about it and 2 more steps for me to get in the carriage. As soon as I was seated, Mary showed me a delicate small box wrapped with fine purple paper and golden silk ribbon, with obvious happiness.

“ John! A newsy gave me this cute box and a massage, and they are all addressed as ‘ William’!”

“ Sherlock Holmes, what trick are you playing with me…” I chuckled and opened the box.

“ Oh my goodness! They are so pretty!” Mary almost shouted out.

“ Yes, they are.” Ladies can never handle jewelries’ gorgeousness. There was a pair of ruby earrings lying on the bottom and a pearl necklace, fixed with red shiny thin strings. “ How dose he always get these fancy articles...” As I whined about his omnitude, a small piece of pink paper fell out of the box. It said, “ It’s Williams, my middle name, if that’s a boy. Your dear S.H.” Only one person who could have this high-leveled handwriting happens to sign his name as “S.H”.

“Dear, what’s that?”

I gave the massage to her and looked out side of window at those walking on the street. Mary’s cream caught my mind back.

“ Oh my dear Lord! This is impossible! On one else could probably know this! Honey, I haven’t told anybody.”

I felt so annoyed since all those sudden confusions made me mad and turned my head in. Why are women all so spoffish. “ What’s that?”

“ John, I’m pregnant!”

“ No, you cannot. I know my condition… Oh my God!”

“ Oh God…”