Every single moment

Every single moment in my life would define who I am. I can’t believe that it could take me so long to realize that. This discovery also comes with a fear that really forces me to look back at every decision that I made and every path of life that I ever took to have a clearer view about me, about my life, about what I should do for the rest of my life. I’m listening to music while blogging right now. That seems stupid to judge who I am and who I will be based on that single insignificant snapshot of my life. Yet, I think it makes sense to know who you are and who you will be just by taking a look at what you do every day. Sometimes you might think there’re some harmless habits to take, such as smoking, drinking, reading tabloids of some kind or getting obsessed in endless TV series  just for relaxation. However, just one touch then you can see the effect linger for the rest of your life. Your brain loves habits, loves the stability of actions and the same track of thoughts; therefore, you would always end up doing again and again something you just intended to try for once. Besides, I guess there would be no MOMENT  after which our life would change profoundly, as movies or novels always love to mention. By the word MOMENT, I mean it’s a single flash of one event or of a single thought that comes across your mind just like a lightning. Yes, there would be MOMENTS like that, but those MOMENTS are rooted from your everyday actions. We all see things fall down to the ground every single day, but only one man, who spent his childhood absorbing all sources of knowledge he could access, could come up with a great discovery that would change the world forever. Think about it, life is fair when giving us the same resources: time. We all have 24 hours a day to spend, but you can see among more than 6 billions human-beings in our planet, we are so different in what we achieve and even what we believe. Yes, religion, background, culture count, really really count. But think about it, religion, background and culture are things that you’re exposed to every single day of your life and they really shape your life.

So be aware. Every single moment counts. Who you are 5 years, 10 years, even 20 years from now might have a subtle initial connection with what you’re doing right now. That scares me a lot, but it made me less blind and less lost than I used to be.

Pain is not romantic at all

Pain in movies is romantic. A beautiful girl crying desperately in the pouring rain. A perfect couple choose to die together in a catastrophe. Movies make use of pain as salt and pepper to bring up the flavor in a steak. But pain in real life is not at all that pretty. I’m feeling so bad right now, and I wish it would stop. It’s not romantic seeing yourself sweating in nightmares that come from real life. It’s not romantic feeling every part of your body hiding a scream out loud that you try so hard to hold it back. It’s not romantic driving in crowded street with noises and angry faces around, feeling completely lost and abandoned. It’s not romantic at all, when tears fill your eyes, disappointment fills your heart, and your pride gets bruised up severely. I hate that pain I’m suffering. It’s not romantic at all. It sucks.

At least you breath …

We will never know how to appreciate things we’ve already owned until we lose them. I think that’s one of the characteristics required for our advancement and evolution. We will always pay attention to something lying ahead, we will only crave for something out of our reach, and we will always suppose that the slice of cake that is bigger is not the one on our own dish. In some way, it’s good for us. If we feel so fulfilled and satisfied with ourselves, we will stop dead at one position. No movement means nothing new. Nothing new means we stop growing up and start deteoriorating with time. I can’t help but noticing that people around me and myself keep exaggerating what other people have. I don’t mean we admire other people for their success and achievements in life, I mean we always think of them as the ones who enjoy the ease of living on a better side of fate. That’s what happening with me right now. After a conversation tonight with my collegues, I again plunge myself in to a  mud pond of boredom and self-doubt. Yes, emphasize on the word “again”, I’m quite a pessimistic bitch for my whole life. Every trouble in my life will always end up being my fault only, according to another me who is living inside of me and who seems to be a wise yet bitchy been-there-done-that ego. Damn her, right now she is whispering to me: “Bitch, it’s all your fault. You are a loser and you deserve that!” Classic! Thanks a lot, the wise-yet-bitchy me.

Here’s the thing: I can’t get it, why they all seem to be so happy while I’m so wretched. Today, the conversation I’m always afraid of was triggered by a girl who is the daughter of someone – I don’t mean to be the bitch who blames fate to my unsuccessful life comparing to hers – as she always implies it in her word. She boasted (should I use that word?) that she would go to Korea next week for some embassador stuffs. Then another girl immediately jumped in, definitely being turned on by her words, then continued the stories of a fancy life in which she has travelled almost her whole life to fancy places. She said Australia is boring and full of “peagants”. She went on about some Korean guys who had a huge crush on her during her time there. I know, I understand. She’s beautiful, she has everything I don’t have and will never have: a pretty face and 2 huge boobs. Yet, I feel crappy about myself. I have never traveled overseas in my life. My father did, but it’s a business trip. I tried to boast a little about my plan of taking my mom and my sis to Thailand this summer with my own money (which seems not too feasible as my mom didn’t really appreciate the idea of me wasting my money). Well, a nice try to build up the already-broken pride of mine. It looks just like I’m trying to put on flip flops to walk against some Louboutin bitches-long-legs. They’re always like that, you know, wearing fancy things, talking about cool stuffs (like weeds and bars and lovers who they treated like trash), even having amazing boyfriends and friends in general. Their students love them, yet they don’t have to spend too much time preparing their materials. The boss appreciate their effort. I guess you would have to cover your eyes a little bit to protect them from their white-hot glory. Me? Bullshit. From head to toe I’m nothing but trash.

But at least, I’m breathing. Not much, but enough to feel like I enjoy a huge perk comparing to people who were six-feet-underground with worms and worse, who are suffering from physical pains and diseases. I remember a line from “Insidious 2”, something like: Only when you’re dead will you wish to be alive again, just to suffer, even from the worst pain and sorrow. In some way, pain and sorrow even make life seem real, so damn real you can touch it and squeeze it till its last drops. Yeah, life is real. To me. Right now. Well, I guess …

I’m smiling, ’cause Andersen once said: “Looked at from above, how many griefs of our own and of humans can make us smile …”.

Cửa sổ mưa buồn

Cửa sổ mưa buồn

Có một góc cửa sổ mưa buồn
Buông rèm mưa những ngày ẩm lạnh
Có đôi mắt ngóng trông mưa tạnh
Có bàn tay run lạnh ngập ngừng
Có trái tim ngập những “chưa từng”
Có những băn khoăn vùi trong mong mỏi
Có những câu nói khép lại bằng dấu hỏi
Có đôi tất ẩm tanh vắt nơi cửa sổ mưa buồn
Cửa sổ mưa buồn ai ngóng trông ai
Người qua phố liêu xiêu màu quên lãng
Trang sách lạnh nhuốm màu câm lặng
Hàng mi buông nặng sắc xám tâm tư
-T.H-

The drifters (1)

Among certain moments of my day these days, I read The drifters bits by bits. It’s such a shame, not being able to spend a significant amount of time on such a good book like that. The drifters at first appeared to me like a bunch of micellaneous stuffs connecting to one another by means of invisible linkages. I didn’t have a good impression on how the author starts every chapter with run-on quotations or a fragment of a sudden something from somewhere. It seemed quite inaccesasible and uncomprehensible to me, on the first chapter, the way a conflict between national pride and personal belief can lead to a generation who took solace in drifting about to find something worth living for. Then, luckily, another chapter unfolded pulled me out of the interest which merely resulted from curiorsity. I see a reflection of myself, of my own conflicts, doubts and pain from all these portraits. I see a reflection of a world, once seemed to be too faraway and too out of my concern.

The Coldplay project (Day 1) – Viva la vida

I got struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight the first day I came across this song as a cover by Taylor Swift. I like Taylor, and I turned to her version every once in a while, yet the original is unquestionably the best. I love listening to this song every morning when I wake up, as I think the fresh start of a new day would linger a little while longer with me if accompanied by something incredibly resonating with myself. As the song plays, I find myself floating among different layers of emotions. No, floating sounds so monotonous and subjective. Better be “rolling” among different layers of emotions. A little touch of sacarsm, a couple of looking-back moments, a lingering bitterness of former glory regret, a subtle imprint of a far-gone love … I always sigh, feeling a sudden trembling movement running through my backbone when he chants: “Oh who would want to be king …?”

The best thing about Cold play is their lyrics. Viva la vida is definately a must-be-named in the list. Built on the background of a former glory, the song finds no difficulty in carrying me back to the past, overwhelming me among a cluster of unfulfilled childhood dreams or turning a mess of intertwining events I experienced into something simple and visible. Words like: “And I discover that my castles stand upon pillars of salt and pillar of sand” are worth playing all day inside my head, as I recall my constantly-buiding-then-falling system of beliefs over the years.

I can’t resist the temptation of covering this song. My version is horrible, yet I think once you love something so much, you would find your own way to make a part of it yours.