Aug 22 2009
Random Thoughts in a Day
Still kind of confused at what to say. So many things have been going on … some of them worth writing, some not.
Several times when I was about to put down something, I asked myself, Who am I writing to? Who am I writing for? Then I realized that is not how I write when I really had something to say.
Started with MF in mid June. What intrigued me was the fact that I could be in a position to build knowledge–knowledge about other people: what they like, how they react to promotions, how to group different people, etc. To some degree, in a wicked way, it gives me a sense of power. Therefore, although the position is not what I had in mind, I nevertheless went after it. I guess in the end, the crave for power drives every man’s decision. Except different people have different definition of empowerment.
Towards the end of July, Seattle had a few hot days this summer. On a whim, I decided to test my limit by riding in the mid-afternoon sun. It was an exhilarating experience–like when I was a kid, having fear of heights, I often got a kick out of stepping on the edge of a building roof or a cliff. Just to tease myself.
It was 98F that day and windless. The normal route was about 18 miles plus/minus. I bunked at 16.5. Until then, I was on pace and on time. But at the Fish’nChip place, I just lost it: my head felt light and exploding. Even as the pain seemed never ending, I was waiting for hallucination to kick in. Alas, it never did. But the waiting game was intriguing.
Remember on our trip to Xin Jiang, our driver told us the story of a girl customer he picked up once. It was on our way to another ancient ruin. We just drove around the Flaming Mountain, off the brand new, leather-smooth highway, passed the clay statues and other photo props next to the ugly sign “火焰山”. At the back of the Flaming Mountain, was another mountain range, almost in parallel to it. It was very bare so the man-made stairs from the bottom to the top could be seen far far away, carved on the endless slope like a giant zipper.
Anyway, the driver told us how that girl tried to seduce him. She sweet talked him and begged him to climb the stairs with her. “走近天堂，感受死亡” is how she pitched. In the end, he found her through a binocular half way on that mile-long stairs, barely dressed, holding an empty water bottle, gasping for air.
Maybe it is just one of the fables a traveler picks up on the road (Oh … that trip!) But as I was gasping for air that afternoon and tried to hold on to my cookies, I thought of the story. Suddenly, I realized that the girl was so much more an existentialist than I ever was.
Talking about Existentialism, finished reading Camus’ The Stranger on the bus to Vancouver to join a family vacation. As I was afraid, I didn’t quite get it. Not that I didn’t pick up anything, but I felt a sense of powerlessness reading the 2nd part of the novel. As powerful as Meursault’s outburst in the end is, the very last paragraph summarized the whole book — Meursault felt content just to die in front of a large crowd. Sure. He may feel liberated because he is going to die. But that leaves me, who still has to live on, feeling totally depleted.
Nevertheless, I will never forget how Camus described “fate”–like a wind from years yet to live. Very moving.
It comes back to a full circle: when I went to school, I went with the questions of why. In school, I started to despise the why questions and indulged myself with hows. Now a year after school, I am back to the why questions again.
Well, that is fate.