Today I went to the hospital to escort my father-in-law back home. He has been inflicted by some viruses that caused him grave difficulties in urination for about three weeks. After continuous attacks of high fever, he was finally hospitalized to lessen physical pains. He is 76 years old.
My own father has also got flu last week. Out of his stubbornness in refusing to visit local clinics as well as his cautiousness in avoiding wrong dosage of drugs by local physicians, which may conflict with the drugs he regularly intakes for other chronic illness, his initial flu grew into pneumonia. He too suffered from high fever for several days. He is almost the same age as my father-in-law.
Looking at their wretched figures with great sympathy, I remembered one of my friends told me that one at our age has entered the stage of life whose main occupation can be best captured by the simple phrase “the middle age of joys and miseries” (哀樂中年). My younger brother also told me the main concern of life at our age is no more than “to retain health and to honor the dead” (養生送死).
Who can deny the truth in their words?
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Monday, May 10, 2004
Worn Out
Worn out by drafting a conference agenda assigned to me by the department faculty. It’s quite unbelievable when I was first informed that I got to do the job since my first notes sent to the committee had earned unanimous approval.
Somehow this looks a bit ridiculous to me. First, we had a meeting discussing on the agenda. Then we decided that each would write personal notes to pool together later for further discussions to finalize details. As the coming conference will be national in scale, I thought that I should think hard enough to protect and preserve the reputation of our department. However, it seems that I was the only one who really thought so and worked hard to take the notes seriously. Then the consequence is obvious enough. The whole load of agenda drafting fell on my shoulder. I had to complete the draft in both Chinese and English.
I started working on it from last night till early morning today. Almost 8 hours to finish it. Again, don’t know if I’m too dumb or what. Though not without certain discontent, I still could not let it go in a way not to my satisfaction. I simply could not draft a lousy copy to hand it out.
Writing sometimes looks like a curse. You cannot ignore it and turn away your face from it so easily, no matter whether the writing is an imposed assignment or a voluntary work. Once you start writing, the work done will bear a mark of your own being (which has nothing to do with a name alone). You just cannot see your existence being wasted like that. So you will be cursed to put all your life into it, to re-live yourself in your own writing.
It’s destiny.
Somehow this looks a bit ridiculous to me. First, we had a meeting discussing on the agenda. Then we decided that each would write personal notes to pool together later for further discussions to finalize details. As the coming conference will be national in scale, I thought that I should think hard enough to protect and preserve the reputation of our department. However, it seems that I was the only one who really thought so and worked hard to take the notes seriously. Then the consequence is obvious enough. The whole load of agenda drafting fell on my shoulder. I had to complete the draft in both Chinese and English.
I started working on it from last night till early morning today. Almost 8 hours to finish it. Again, don’t know if I’m too dumb or what. Though not without certain discontent, I still could not let it go in a way not to my satisfaction. I simply could not draft a lousy copy to hand it out.
Writing sometimes looks like a curse. You cannot ignore it and turn away your face from it so easily, no matter whether the writing is an imposed assignment or a voluntary work. Once you start writing, the work done will bear a mark of your own being (which has nothing to do with a name alone). You just cannot see your existence being wasted like that. So you will be cursed to put all your life into it, to re-live yourself in your own writing.
It’s destiny.
Recommence
After almost five months’ interval, I restart my weblog by transferring previous logs from Blogger to MT. I spent almost 48 hours to install the MT. Don’t know if I’m too dumb to shorten the time spent on making the platform work. Whatever. The system finally started working to my satisfaction.
Now I begin to see my work, not just my job, is tied to written signs, to writing itself. That is likely part of my calling which I out of plain laziness always tries to resist for a long time.
Simply keep writing to feel my being existent, to fight back time’s erosion of my always faulty memories.
I’ll see how long this time my self-logging will keep going.
Now I begin to see my work, not just my job, is tied to written signs, to writing itself. That is likely part of my calling which I out of plain laziness always tries to resist for a long time.
Simply keep writing to feel my being existent, to fight back time’s erosion of my always faulty memories.
I’ll see how long this time my self-logging will keep going.
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