“The Second Sermon on the Warpland” by Gwendolyn Brooks

Better Blackness

A perfect poem for any New Year’s Day and for all who count themselves among “the last of the loud.”



This is the urgency:  Live!

and have your blooming in the noise of the whirlwind.


Salve salvage in the spin.

Endorse the splendor splashes;

stylize the flawed utility;

prop a malign or failing light–

but know the whirlwind is our commonwealth.

Not the easy man, who rides above them all,

not the jumbo brigand,

not the pet bird of poets, that sweetest sonnet,

shall straddle the whirlwind.

Nevertheless, live.


All about are the cold places,

all about are the pushmen and jeopardy, theft–

all about are the stormers and scramblers, but

what must our Season be, which starts from Fear?

Live and go out.

Define and

medicate the whirlwind.


The time

cracks into furious flower.  Lifts its face

all unashamed. …

View original post 104 more words

Ha! Take this Vicente!

At today’s dinner, I was challenged to re-publicize my blog. I closed it (set it to private mode) for an entire semester because of several reasons: 1) I was rather busy 2) my life was a mess (and I am not and will not be a honest blogger) 3) My favorite blogger stopped writing and escaped to Brazil. No names will be mentioned but I was very sad.

Anyways, apparently my friend Vicente opened his blog, so there’s no more excuse for me to close my blog. I mean, when a phD student tells you he has time for blogging, an undergrad cannot be a whining chick. Who can have worse school-life balance than PhDs?

Thankfully, I do have my journals to help me keep track of my whereabouts. I took classes, moved into I-house, met new people, learned how to swear in multiple languages, fell in love with kombucha and fish dinners… But I realize that my readers would be more interested in the sad parts of my summer. Never mind, I love the cynical readers, I myself one of them. And so tragedies will be played.

I need to clarify, however, these are annoying occurrences in an undergrad’s daily life. In other words, if you’re over 21, still reading this post, with your popcorn, waiting for some Schadenfreude, you’re simply pathetic. But it’s not like I can climb out of your screen to snatch off that mouse of yours and pour the popcorn into your face. And if I learnt anything this summer, it’s that life only gets easier, when I start to make fun of myself. So, let me raise glass to a not so easy summer, and an even harder Senior year; here are a few things I managed to screw up in the past three months:

  • I could not speak German.

Now this is either an identity crisis or a total blown up hypocrisy. It seems like I was encountering some middle age crisis with my German ability. I loved the German language and the culture grown out of it. My entire independent research and learning experience are structured around the German world. All of a sudden I couldn’t speak it.

And it hurts.

Of course there was some personal reasons involved. However, the more I got trapped in the no-German zone, the more I saw how ignorant I was. I started with Franz Kafka, and like a blind bull majored in German Studies, learned about German and EU politics, wrote about German history, only to find out that not only did I still know nothing about Germany, I also knew nothing about what’s happening outside of Germany. And I am a college senior. How did I allow all of this happen? You could see a downward spiral. The more disappointed I was towards myself, the less I could face my past self that is so committed in a proved lost cause.

I am getting better at this. The first step is to recognize that it is not ok to not practice speaking German. The second step is to do something about it. Simply the actions counted and made me happier. This paragraph is especially difficult to write, since I am still having issue. But at least my readers will know about it, and that’s the third step: make myself a clown out of it. In the end it’s hardly the biggest blow in my academic career. (if I even have one)  What I learned in and out of German classes still stayed with me. This Summer I was forced to look at German from a different perspective, but I’m glad that I didn’t give it up. I hope things make sense, but it’s complicated, you’re tired of reading this, so let’s move on.

  • I forgot to pickup my passport at the Chinese Embassy

At mid June, I sent my passport into the Chinese Embassy in SF, because it’s running on expiration. I was told that I needed a new passport, which should arrive in one and a half month.

One afternoon in early August I received a phone call from San Francisco. Interestingly, it didn’t say “Chinese Embassy” on the screen so I continued my afternoon nap. The same number called for a second time, and a third time. I became rather grumpy and hang up. It was later when I checked my email did I realize:” oh no! I just hang up on the Chinese Embassy!”

I did get my passport back. However, I was assigned a different date to pick it up. The lesson in this story is probably: don’t take unnecessary afternoon naps.

  • I lost my purse in SF.

The way I see this is, I am glad that I only lost my first purse after such a long time living in the US. I thought I would lose it on my first day. It happened on my way back from the SF Chinese Embassy. Now every time we’re in SF, Luciana asks me to check if my wallet is still there. Thanks Luciana =)

  • I lost my glasses. (and found them very much later)

One could only lose so many things. Seriously? After I went broke for 36 hours, my glasses decided to runaway from home. Not to mention that summer classes started when I realized that my glasses were gone. “At some point I would love to see the board.” I wrote in my journals. Turned out I forgot them in my friend’s car. When I found them, however, I have already gone blind for three months in a row. (Maybe this explained that “B” in political science class!) Moral of the story? Always have a backup pair of glasses!

  • I overstretched my ankle.

And as if this summer couldn’t have gotten worse… I decided to text, while walking down stairs! Millennial believe in our ability in multi-tasking. However, it is one thing to believe, another thing to execute. I fell down four consecutive stairs and for the love of God couldn’t stop crying. My ankle was a volcano exploding. Mind you, I twisted my ankle several times before, never had it hurt this bad. At the hospital, the doctor told me to stop being sad and wear an ankle bracelet for a week. “Then we’ll decide if you can take the bracelet off. but the bones look fine.”

I received my first ankle bracelet of my life and sent a picture of it to my brothers for condolence. They told me it was quite normal on basketball courts. “But we have never worn those bracelets, you’re such a chicken.” =( I didn’t even receive proper care, from my own brothers!

Of course there are many other things that I screwed up. But I would rather keep them to myself. In one of the many magical dinner I had at I-house, I asked the question:” what would I be like when I’m 28?” I couldn’t imagine it. All I could say is, I probably will mess up every step of my life, given my limited intelligence. But hopefully, as the wisest man always says, “it all works out in the end.”

At least it did this summer.


The Flea by John Donne

The Flea

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know’st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead,
    Yet this enjoys before it woo,
    And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
    And this, alas, is more than we would do.
Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w’are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
    Though use make you apt to kill me,
    Let not to that, self-murder added be,
    And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph’st, and say’st that thou
Find’st not thy self, nor me the weaker now;
    ’Tis true; then learn how false, fears be:
    Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,
    Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.

A letter of Chekhov to his brother

posted on my blog so that I know where to find it

(Source: James Vane; Translation by Michael Henry Heim; Image: Anton Chekhov, via.)

Moscow, March, 1886

My little Zabelin,

I’ve been told that you have taken offense at gibes Schechtel and I have been making. The faculty of taking offense is the property of noble souls alone, but even so, if it is all right to laugh at Ivanenko, me, Mishka and Nelly, then why is it wrong to laugh at you? It’s unfair. However, if you’re not joking and really do feel you’ve been offended, I hasten to apologize.

People only laugh at what’s funny or what they don’t understand. Take your choice.

The latter of course is more flattering, but—alas!—to me, for one, you’re no riddle. It’s not hard to understand someone with whom you’ve shared the delights of Tatar caps, Voutsina, Latin and, finally, life in Moscow. And besides, your life is psychologically so uncomplicated that even a nonseminarian could understand it. Out of respect for you let me be frank. You’re angry, offended…but it’s not because of my gibes or of that good-natured chatterbox Dolgov. The fact of the matter is that you’re a decent person and you realize that you’re living a lie. And, whenever a person feels guilty, he always looks outside himself for vindication: the drunk blames his troubles, Putyata blames the censors, the man who bolts from Yakimanka Street with lecherous intent blames the cold in the living room or gibes, and so on. If I were to abandon the family to the whims of fate, I would try to find myself an excuse in Mother’s character or my blood spitting or the like. It’s only natural and pardonable. It’s human nature, after all. And you’re quite right to feel you’re living a lie. If you didn’t feel that way, I wouldn’t have called you a decent person. When decency goes, well, that’s another story. You become reconciled to the lie and stop feeling it.

You’re no riddle to me, and it is also true that you can be wildly ridiculous. You’re nothing but an ordinary mortal, and we mortals are enigmatic only when we’re stupid, and we’re ridiculous forty-eight weeks of the year. Isn’t that so?

You often complain to me that people “don’t understand” you. But even Goethe and Newton made no such complaints. Christ did, true, but he was talking about his doctrine, not his ego. People understand you all too well. If you don’t understand yourself, then it’s nobody else’s fault.

As your brother and intimate, I assure you that I understand you and sympathize with you from the bottom of my heart. I know all your good qualities like the back of my hand. I value them highly and have only the greatest respect for them. If you like, I can even prove how I understand you by enumerating them. In my opinion you are kind to the point of fault, magnanimous, unselfish, you’d share your last penny, and you’re sincere. Hate and envy are foreign to you, you are open-hearted, you are compassionate with man and beast, you are not greedy, you do not bear grudges, and you are trusting. You are gifted from above with something others lack: you have talent. This talent places you above millions of people, for there is only one artist for every two million people on earth. It places you in a very special position: you could be a toad or a tarantula and you would still be respected, because talent is its own excuse.

You have only one failing, the cause of the lie you’ve been living, your troubles, and your intestinal catarrh. It’s your extreme lack of culture. Please forgive me, but veritas magis amicitiae. The thing is, life lays down certain conditions. If you want to feel at home among intellectuals, to fit in and not find their presence burdensome, you have to have a certain amount of breeding. Your talent has brought you into their midst. You belong there, but…you seem to yearn escape and feel compelled to waver between the cultured set and your next-door neighbors. It’s the bourgeois side of you coming out, the side raised on birch thrashings beside the wine cellar and handouts, and it’s hard to overcome, terribly hard.

To my mind, civilized people ought to satisfy the following conditions:

1. They respect the individual and are therefore always indulgent, gentle, polite and compliant. They do not throw a tantrum over a hammer or a lost eraser. When they move in with somebody, they do not act as if they were doing him a favor, and when they move out, they do not say, “How can anyone live with you!” They excuse noise and cold and overdone meat and witticisms and the presence of others in their homes.

2. Their compassion extends beyond beggars and cats. They are hurt even by things the naked eye can’t see. If for instance, Pyotr knows that his father and mother are turning gray and losing sleep over seeing their Pyotr so rarely (and seeing him drunk when he does turn up), then he rushes home to them and sends his vodka to the devil. They do not sleep nights the better to help the Polevayevs, help pay their brothers’ tuition, and keep their mother decently dressed.

3. They respect the property of others and therefore pay their debts.

4. They are candid and fear lies like the plague. They do not lie even about the most trivial matters. A lie insults the listener and debases him in the liar’s eyes. They don’t put on airs, they behave in the street as they do at home, and they do not try to dazzle their inferiors. They know how to keep their mouths shut and they do not force uninvited confidences on people. Out of respect for the ears of others they are more often silent than not.

5. They do not belittle themselves merely to arouse sympathy. They do not play on people’s heartstrings to get them to sigh and fuss over them. They do not say, “No one understands me!” or “I’ve squandered my talent on trifles!” because this smacks of a cheap effect and is vulgar, false and out-of-date.

6. They are not preoccupied with vain things. They are not taken in by such false jewels as friendships with celebrities, handshakes with drunken Plevako, ecstasy over the first person they happen to meet at the Salon de Varietes, popularity among the tavern crowd. They laugh when they hear, “I represent the press,” a phrase befitting only Rodzeviches and Levenbergs. When they have done a penny’s worth of work, they don’t try to make a hundred rubles out of it, and they don’t boast over being admitted to places closed to others. True talents always seek obscurity. They try to merge with the crowd and shun all ostentation. Krylov himself said that an empty barrel has more chance of being heard than a full one.

7. If they have talent, they respect it. They sacrifice comfort, women, wine and vanity to it. They are proud of their talent, and so they do not go out carousing with trade-school employees or Skvortsov’s guests, realizing that their calling lies in exerting an uplifting influence on them, not in living with them. What is more, they are fastidious.

8. They cultivate their aesthetic sensibilities. They cannot stand to fall asleep fully dressed, see a slit in the wall teeming with bedbugs, breathe rotten air, walk on a spittle-laden floor or eat off a kerosene stove. They try their best to tame and ennoble their sexual instinct… What they look for in a woman is not a bed partner or horse sweat, […] not the kind of intelligence that expresses itself in the ability to stage a fake pregnancy and tirelessly reel off lies. They—and especially the artists among them—require spontaneity, elegance, compassion, a woman who will be a mother… They don’t guzzle vodka on any old occasion, nor do they go around sniffing cupboards, for they know they are not swine. They drink only when they are free, if the opportunity happens to present itself. For they require a mens sana in corpore sano.

And so on. That’s how civilized people act. If you want to be civilized and not fall below the level of the milieu you belong to, it is not enough to read The Pickwick Papers and memorize a soliloquy from Faust. It is not enough to hail a cab and drive off to Yakimanka Street if all you’re going to do is bolt out again a week later.

You must work at it constantly, day and night. You must never stop reading, studying in depth, exercising your will. Every hour is precious. 

Trips back and forth to Yakimanka Street won’t help. You’ve got to drop your old way of life and make a clean break. Come home. Smash your vodka bottle, lie down on the couch and pick up a book. You might even give Turgenev a try. You’ve never read him.

You must swallow your pride. You’re no longer a child. You’ll be thirty soon. It’s high time!

I’m waiting…We’re all waiting…

A. Chekhov

München log2: Museums in München



    When I walked in, there was nobody there except a lady sitting in the front. Frauenkirche is a much bigger church than the one I saw in Regensburg yesterday, and it’s much more well-kept (maybe it’s because people actually uses it). The statue of Jesus was quite impressive as it was hanging from the wall like a giant pendant. I found it interesting, that Jesus was sticked into the cross with his mouth and eyes free. Isn’t that quite mesmerizing. Even though physically he couldn’t move, mentally (or spiritually) he could still be alive.  

    An interesting anecdote about the church: on the ground there was a black footprint, and if you stand on the footprint, it’s impossible to see any windows. It was said that after the church was built, one day the devil decided to pay a visit and left the black footprint. Unable to see any windows, he said that a church was useless if there was no window. However, one more step forward two windows popped out from both sides behind the pillars. The devil was so angry and defeated that he turned into a wind, constantly hovering around the church.

    The only problem I found with the anecdote was the size of the footprint: it was only a little bit bigger than my footprints and hence seemed quite unrealistic to me: the statue of Jesus was so big it had to be hung up from the ceiling, when the footprints of a devil is only slightly larger than that of an Asian female.



Alte Pinakothek:

    I really enjoyed the museum. First of all, I found museums in Munich and its surrounding cities generally a nice place to spend time at because: 1) it’s always raining (although when I was at München, only the second day it rained a bit) 2) it’s much colder outside anyways 3) entry tickets do not cost much (the entry ticket, if you are a student, is anywhere ranging from 2 to 4 Euro)

    The museum for old Art is situated directly across museum for modern art. I saw some Art students bringing their own foldable chairs, notebooks and watercolors to outline some of the paintings. There are also primary school students sitting in circle with their teachers sitting amidst them discussing the art works. I was surprised by how quiet the kids were and genuinely interested into Art, something I only got into after entry into high school. Upon talking to one of the locals there, I also learned that Sunday was “Museum Day”, a brilliant idea in my opinion, to keep the people cultured (and busy).

The museum website is https://www.pinakothek.de/


    It’s an open space about five minute walks from the museum. I got my lunch here, sitting next to a group of students from the technical university in Munich. The salad tastes like salad everywhere and my waiter checked with me twice before he took the order:” Salad only?”

    There was a nice park on left hand side of Königsplatz with some tables for table tennis. It was Friday afternoon and dogs were out having fun. I also realized that I was the only one sitting alone on benches. This is the only time that I missed being in Berkeley: it’s the exact opposite, from my observation.

Das Staatliche Museum Ägyptischer Kunst (+special exhibition in Modern Art):

    There was the Egyptian God who transformed himself into the shape of an eagle. He’s my favorite. Every other god just looked awkward, especially the cat one. I was also surprised to find out the influence of Greco-Roman aesthetic on Egypt, after it became part of the empire. Interesting, never thought about what happened after the ancient Egyptian culture (i.e. the old and new kingdoms)


München log1: Regensburg

On the plane:

I knocked out the moment I was on the plane. This is my first time flying with Lufthansa and I have to say I can’t stop but comparing it with Cathy Pacific in my mind. (Although it’s maybe because I slept through the entire trip; when I woke up the captain was already broadcasting “cabin crew please prepare for landing”.) Although the german broadcasts are interesting and I was reassured that I needed to work harder on my German. Also, landing is extremely soft (as opposed to the time with Air France when they made landing like an entire catastrophe and everyone clapped for their own pure luck when the plane landed safely.) 

I didn’t have any dreams and plus I was sick. Buried inside my blankets ( I brought one of my most trusted and used wool blanket and the one distributed on flight ) , eye covers and a surgical mask, I was only woken up once in the middle of the flight because the lady sitting next to me needed to use the restroom. (She started coughing at the end of the flight so it might be possible that I gave my cold to her… I felt very sad about that.) For the same reason, I totally ignored the foods. I remembered smelling something but that’s it. 

First thing I realized upon arrival in Munich was the awesome time difference of Germany between US and China: I could talk to family and friends from both parts at the same time!

Second thing worth noticing is that the subway from Munich airport to Münch Hbf was late for an entire hour. And everybody looked totally fine with it. I wondered when I could reach that peace of mind. I also realized that people walked slower in comparison to in the States.


(The inspiring ticket that was supposed to leave at 18:27 that actually left at 19:30)


My train to Regensburg left at 6:44 am and arrived at 8:11 am. My plan was to arrive early to walk around and got a general feel of the city before everyone got here. But the train was already stuffed with people getting off at different stops along the way. Deutsche Bahn’s inter-city trains kind of reminded me of their counterparts in Japan. Both countries have train stations built into a collection of (fast food) restaurants and sold tiny pocket books.


(on the way to Regensburg: sun came out at around 7:30am)


(Haha this is so funny, it’s at a coffee shop called “San Francisco Coffee” on second floor of Regensburg Bahnhof.)


(And of course I need to get some caffeine here. )

I spent the morning exploring University of Regensburg. The university itself is like a combination of Soda hall and Evans on Berkeley campus. Before I left, I was shown a booklet of pictures from Regensburg so I had high expectations. Needless to say, the university had much more practical design.


(A 20-mins walk from Regensburg Hbf with the help of Google map)


(Flags; and winter sun in Regensburg)


(See what I was talking about?)


(Philosophie… Moses Hall on Berkeley campus left such a good impression of Philosophy Department on my mind, which translated to confusion when I saw this very direct, practical, black-and-white, simple design of directory)


(But! It did get a lot better once I ventured onto the main campus.)


(Not us. Those are just two random human beings.)


(Artistic bridge connecting main campus with the sports facility. Three students were chilling at the end of the bridge.)

I wandered around campus for a while, especially amongst the Physik and Philosophie Departments. There were some interesting talks going on. But I guess my snow boots are instant give-aways of my actual identity: a curious visitor. In order to make myself less noticeable so as not to disturb the students, I tried to blend in with one group of local high school students. That was a harder job as apparently I was the only Asian following at the end of the group.

Then I left the university to visit the actual Regensburg Altstadt. It was another thirty minutes walk. This Thanksgiving break I would like to give my most sincere Thank you to google map.


(On the Way to Regensburg)

I decided to join a day tour at the visitor’s center. The tour was in German and although I couldn’t understand 100%, I did find some familiar terms from in class. Did I know that Regensburg was the largest city in Bayern in the German Empire? No I didn’t. I also didn’t know that the reason that Regensburg preserved many architectures from middle ages because it didn’t have enough money to build more fashionable buildings. Before the discovery of America, Regensburg was very rich. But once colonialization started, Regensburg lost competitively and could only re-use its previously built buildings over and over again.








(The most “fashionable” Regensburg could get with a not so full wallet. An Italian design tower)

The church was also interesting in that Regensburg was one of the first cities in Europe with Protestants and catholic population living together peacefully. The solution was two separate churches and the gothic cathedral was left half-undone. In the 1900s when nationalistic values were on the rise the gothic element became valuable and so the rest of the cathedral was finished. Hence, even if the cathedral looked old half of it was only done during the last century.





(die Donau)

And for the first time in my life I had sweet Crepe only with sugar! It tastes so good! I got tired after walking for a while so I went back to München earlier than I expected. But I was so excited that I got to use my German a bit today!


1st year of blog

Last week I received an email from WordPress to renew my $30 “rent” for the blog. Looking back, I did document important moments in my life, things that haunted, pleased, moved, or angered me in the past year. I always try to be honest on my blog and it is a hard job because after all this is an open space and I, like most of the writers, can’t stop but imagine what the readers would think about my experiences, as I jot down words.

Initially I wanted the blog to be only for my personal records and hence in some earlier posts I would hide out my school name, friends’ names, etc. But I realize this is due to a deeper fear and distrust of internet, and more importantly a fear that my writings are mediocre, plain, and boring. And this fear is not towards readers, but towards a future me. What if I myself found my own writing useless? That would be the worst nightmare. Words are only powerful if you know how to use them. I often encounter difficulties trying to reproduce occurrences and found myself trapped in an unnecessary position: will this word be cool to myself ten years later?

Now, judging from the stats, indeed not that many people actually read this other than myself. (Hence I stopped blurring out names). But I did remember looking at some of the earlier posts thinking, “what? that’s how I thought about the things happening around me?” I guess from this point of view, it is worthwhile to keep documenting my life.

This week we celebrated my high school’s 70th birthday.


Although unfortunately I couldn’t go back to reunite with my high school teachers and friends, I did send them text messages and was surprised to find out that they remembered surprisingly much about me. The timid, quiet, oftentimes socially awkward (or so I thought I was) teenager that couldn’t find her place. I never peaked in high school (unlike most of my classmates who described high school as the gloriest time of their lives). Although now I doubt that already in high school my classmates had a clear idea of what they wanted for future, ok, maybe one or two of them, but the problem is I was the one who wrote all the confusion on her face. I was in student council, because I thought some immature high school bureaucracy would secure my position amongst my peers. But I felt increasingly hard to blend in and that even within the student council it was hard for me to socialize. I would talk about projects when actually people just wanted to chat. Then I would talk more about projects because I had nothing else to say to them. This week when I finally connected with my upperclassman, who directed me during my first year in student council, he laughed and said that I was a bit “hard to talk to” and that I never participated in their small talks. I felt sorry about that and I wish that I could have small talked more during high school.

I guess I have a better time coming to terms with myself now, but back in high school I rejected the idea of writing journals or blog posts, to document my life. There was nothing to write about. On the contrary, I think I’m kind of “peaking” now because I find Berkeley a paradise on earth. I’m surrounded by people who are smarter than I am but humble enough to talk to me and open my eyes. I’m constantly changing, in a good way. And thus all the experiences gave me incentives to write blog posts.


Moreover, I realize that I am no longer a ghost, or an outsider amongst my peers. This is partially due to the fact that in college I was given the freedom to choose my own friends, as opposed to in high school when I’m constantly enclosed with the same group of people, who I didn’t and would not choose to hang out with. Consequently, all of my friends in high school (except two) were sitting in other classrooms, sometimes even other buildings on campus, when I ,in my classroom, couldn’t wish more to diminish into pure air and drift out of the windows. As opposed to in college, I found out that each of us are like small planets, and gravity attracts each of us into our paths. For example, once I set my mind on studying German all of a sudden I met tons of people who are interested in the same thing. It was like I was given a key to an enclosed circle. Amazing encounters like this happened throughout the last year. Although feelings are not exact measurements of facts, I can only describe my experience as stepping on stones above a swamp, without anyone directly guiding me, but somehow every time I stand, another stone in the future appears.

I can’t say which way of meeting people is better, i.e. following the flow or taking my friends for granted. I also cannot decide whether my way of navigating through the past year is practical or not, can be adapted to future practices or not. There are so many absurdities and accidents lying ahead of me and the fact that like a boat drifting above the Antarctica, I have no idea whether I’m going to crash into an iceberg any time soon, makes me uncomfortable. I wonder when will I arrive at the stage of complete peace, or is that only achievable in death. But I don’t want to be dead, yet. There are so many great foods to eat and wonderful people to meet, it’s much more interesting to stay alive.

Again, all of these are just observations of me in the year 2016-2017. A self that recently turned 21.  And although I’m a bit anxious, I still want to see what will be written on this blog in the future. Nevertheless, I believe this blog can act as a roadmap, not for the future, but for the past. i.e. It is equally important to acknowledge the self in high school or past in general since the core of me never changed. It simply found different expressions under different circumstances. When Hesse talks about the development of the young self, I think he’s talking about the development of acknowledgement, of recognition of the self, instead of trying to transform it into something different. I have all the answers in me. This is not to say that I am almighty or invincible. Quite on the contrary, I think it’s my weakness that make me human and interesting to talk to. From this standpoint, the mysterious future might be scary, but also interesting.