Memento mori

Just watched a movie by Wong Kai Wai. A moody, beautifully done movie which portrays the ever many facets of human feelings on love and relationship. There is no right or wrong in love, but there are only choices to be made which the consequences are your own bliss or undoing.

Soul searching is important in that sense, love is like a circle which swirls on and on. There is no stopping of human feelings... Love is to be treasured and cherished.

These past few weekends i think i am having some kind of 'Weekends Syndrome'. While i was working, i always think of weekends. But weekends do finally come, i dreaded it. I think i am scared of the boredom that it brings when i really do have plenty of free time. It's such an irony in my life that sometimes i find this sadistically funny and cruel.

Imagine nothing to do, no purpose in life for Satuday and Sunday where everybody is having their fullest of enjoyment. Sometimes out of boredom i can even do things that is beyond my wildest imagination. I can suddenly become very friendly (which i later regret it) and talkative and suddenly so quiet and moody. These upheavals of moods is really toiling me, don't know how long i can keep this up. I might even ends up with multiple personalities during weekends.

Guess i would have to fill my time up with some activities. Perhaps to enrol in some courses or to take up again my cello. Sounds pathetic right? I don't know. Hope things would get better in a near future or i might not be able to take it anymore.

我踏着马路上的间隔线,朝着我想要的未来而奔跑,

奈何来去匆匆的人却无视我的存在.

车辆依旧串行, 路人也并不停驻.

心口的烒热让我喘不过气来,

但是时间的流逝已逐渐的让我回复冷漠,

我疲倦的身影要落向何处,

但愿转角的街头是我心灵的驿站.

Here is an excerpt which resonated with me: “Feelings are not as old as time” from The History of Love, Nicole Krauss. This books has particularly sitrred my feelings and I myself can't help to immerse into the characters.

Feelings are not as old as time. Just as there was a first instant when someone rubbed two sticks together to make a spark, there was a first time joy was felt, and a first time for sadness. For a while, new feelings were being invented all the time. Desire was born early, as was regret. When stubbornness was felt for the first time, it stared a chain reaction, creating a felling of resentment on the one hand, and alienation and loneliness on the other. IT might have been a certain counterclockwise movement of the hips that marked the birth of ecstasy, a bolt of lightning that caused the first feeling of awe. Or maybe it was the body of a girl named Alma. Contrary to logic, the feeling of surprise wasn’t born immediately. It only came after people had enough time to get used to things as they were. And when enough time had passed, someone felt the first feeling of surprise, someone, somewhere else, felt the first pang of nostalgia.

It’s also true that people felt things and because there was no word for them, they were unmentioned. The oldest emotion in the world may be that of being moved; but to describe it- just to name it- must have been like trying to catch something invisible.(The again, the oldest feeling in the world might simply have been confusion.)

Having begun to feel, people’s desire to feel grew. They wanted to feel more, feel deeper, despite how much it sometimes hurt. People became addicted to feeling. They struggled to uncover new emotions. It’s possible that this is how art was born. New kinds of joy were forged, along with new kinds of sadness: The eternal disappointment of life as it is; the relief of unexpected reprieve, the fear of dying.

Even now, all possible feelings do not yet exist. There are still those that lie beyond our capacity and our imagination. From time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written, or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom, or yet describe takes place, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges, and absorbs the impact.

今早去了一趟这个网站, 做了里面的忧郁症测试. 结果是我可能有Moderate Depression.

Sometimes feelings are complicated, especially when something we know we can't fix or prevent happens. At that moment when that happens, we could just stand helplessly and witness the event passed by...albeit helplessly, countless regrets and questions...but to defer it would be too cruel, the beauty of watching something helplessly drown and wasted...Everything passes, love, relationship, things around you, nothing is permanent. That's why people prefer live flowers than plastics, only to satisfy the gratification of a glimpse of youth and beauty and of life itself. But in the end, only the plastics would remain, ircorruptible, always beautiful, always lively...in the end, truly, they are the immortals.

Below is an excerpt from Milan Kundera's 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being:
Human life is stripped of meaning, and thus fundamentally "light" and without substance, because we may travel through it only once, and make only one set of choices. "We can never know what we want", "because, living only one life, we can neither compare it to our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come." This idea has its origins in Friedrich Nietzsche's idea of the "Eternal Return", or "Eternal Recurrence", one of the primary ideas of his Also Sprach Zarathustra. In the Eternal Recurrence, we (re)live each and every moment of our lives over and over again, into eternity. Nietzsche found the prospect of this to be terrifying, calling it das schwerste Gewicht, the heaviest burden.

We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, "sketch" is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.

Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me? The Child of your Love — and now become as the most hated one — the one — You have thrown away as unwanted — unloved. I call, I cling, I want — and there is no One to answer — no One on Whom I can cling — no, No One. — Alone ... Where is my Faith — even deep down right in there is nothing, but emptiness & darkness — My God — how painful is this unknown pain — I have no Faith — I dare not utter the words & thoughts that crowd in my heart — & make me suffer untold agony.
So many unanswered questions live within me afraid to uncover them — because of the blasphemy — If there be God — please forgive me — When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven — there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives & hurt my very soul. — I am told God loves me — and yet the reality of darkness & coldness & emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul. Did I make a mistake in surrendering blindly to the Call of the Sacred Heart?

— addressed to Jesus, at the suggestion of a confessor, undated

Isaiah 53:5 But He was wounded for our transgressions,He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed.

Praised be to him who comes in the name of the Lord.

Baruch haba bisham adonai.