Free Burma! / Liberté pour la Birmanie!

Free Burma! / Liberté pour la Birmanie!
原由 denis collette 上載

Free-Tree for Burma，subtle得來又未免太震撼了。

愛之流刑地（一）

黎明時份，東京市區。

村尾和東冬在床上，激烈地糾纏著。冬香說：「喂，掐我脖子。」哀求著，把村尾的手放在自己的脖子上，說如果村尾是愛她的話，就殺了她。村尾用力地掐，冬香在某一剎那停頓了下來，帶著微笑，就倒下了。

過了一會，村尾調整冬香在床上的姿勢，不住問她怎麼了怎麼了，好像無法相信，她已經死去。這個時候，就出現了律師和檢察官的畫外音，討論村尾到底有沒有殺意，是被吩咐殺人，還是蓄意殺人。律師認為從錄影帶所見，村尾是被委託殺人。

村尾發著呆，彷彿看到冬香前一晚前往他家的樣子。

畫外音續說，說村尾就這樣把冬香的屍體留在臥室裡，是為了不讓他們之間的關係曝光。而在冬香被殺，到屍體被留在臥室裡，都反映出村尾是有預謀及殘忍的的。其時，村尾走到家的天台，想跳下去，但不知如何是好。

律師又說，村尾把冬香留在房間裡，是怕與冬香永遠分離，與殺意無關。這時，畫面所見，村尾為冬香包上浴衣，緊緊擁抱著。

他做了夢，夢見冬香在水裡游向他。刺眼的陽光把他弄醒，醒來發現，冬香還是那樣躺在床上。

窗外的人已開始了一天的勞動和生活。他回到臥室，把床下的錄音機拿出來，裡面錄有冬香臨死前叫村尾殺了她的話。

剛滿一月

我可不想裝的很可悲　好讓人家來給我安慰
這一段時間我很OK　頂多入夜之後早早睡
當然還是有一些小小的寂寞在身邊
寂寞很OK　一個人OK　習慣就OK

張震嶽〈OK〉

深圳之快去快返依依不捨

今日與政政同學北上。中午在太和火車站月台集合，後試用新口岸，在落馬洲過關。途中同學甲發現無帶回鄉證，中途陣亡折返，其時已到上水。

在眾人之中北上經驗最少應是我吧。撇除年頭上深圳取書快去快返不算，上次造訪深圳已是中一的事。那時的我，年紀比回鄉證（沒錯，是證）上照片的我還要小。那時任由父母帶著走，不知往何處去，現在也是如是。同行者中有一深圳居民，及經常北上尋歡的同學，就這樣把性命財產交托予各位，想來還真是理所當然得過份。

過關所在地與地鐵站融為一體，直至買票之後，我都不知自己即將前往哪。深圳地鐵與香港何其相似，連標誌也只差一條直線，但站名卻顯得那樣模糊。少年宮、市民中心、會展中心、香蜜湖、竹子林、老街、科學館，小小的字刻在路線圖中，蒼白無力的程度，與我對深圳的陌生感成正比。

深圳，好像把所有代表財富繁榮的東西都推往極端。六線行車仍不敷應用的大馬路、遠看像拉斯維加斯那把紐約複製起來的酒店的中央商業區、以金銀互相輝映的圖書館和音樂廳、像給巨人子弟就讀的幼稚園的政府總部，看起來充滿了荒謬感。吊詭的是，這些東西在我們生長的地方、讀書的地方應已見怪不怪，但荒謬感又從何而來？可能只是在理論上不相干的地方看到某些東西的存在吧。

半天的行程，除了荒謬外，還不時被不安的情緒籠罩著。最開心的大發現，應是在某書店中發現《我這一代香港人》等香港研究的書，及簡體字版的《資本主義不是什麼》，屝頁還附送許寶強近照。雖然從一般標準看來，那只是一間很普通的三聯／商務分店，談不上什麼性格可言，但在深圳的語境下，竟成為一間接近Libro（即係呢間呀）的書店，真神奇呢。

廣告時間

灣仔社區文化旅遊－－「鬼」要都市變遷

主辦：聖雅各福群會、灣仔民間生活館
內容：透過參觀舊灣仔郵局、軒尼斯道、修頓球場、前盲女學校、八公廟、船街及舊東成戲院等，探討靈異事件與灣仔發展及民生之關係
日期：2007年10月6日（六）<- 應可再議
時間：晚上八時至十一時
費用：$40

明明是自己想去玩，但竟然又約到一班人……社會資本果然可怕！
有興趣者請聯絡在下。

就業用書：書店風雲錄

穩健的友情實在令人既高興又心酸。留學季節又到，知己一聲拜拜，遠去這都市。今個月的空隙，來得正是合時。

就業的書一浪接一浪。最近不斷在看有關各行業的書和網頁，現在書包裡放的是《書店風雲錄》，描述的是三十年前日本西武百貨創辦圖書賣場Libro的情況。百貨公司裡的圖書賣場往往被視為小孩和家庭主婦專用，但三十年前就有人要在百貨公司裡搞一間Kubrick風格的專業書店。三十年前日本的出版業好像超級蓬勃，現在看來真不可思議。開始時也頗不順利，當時的日本出版物要由經銷商如東販、日販等配送與各書店，而西武那間則經常得不到任何配書，在號稱沒有什麼買不到的百貨店裡，買一本暢銷書卻很困難，想起也覺樣衰。後來有些書店業勁人及商業奇才加入，情況就好很多了。但在網上找到其網頁，為何又變了像百貨公司的物體？

週日節目

週日晚間節目一：地獄第19層

如果stephy都叫腳粗，阿嬌那對應是榕樹吧，譚耀文為她穿鞋的一幕尤其明顯，唔怪得突然要瘦得起。全劇最恐怖之處是瞬間轉移──明明在人文館的儲物櫃前奔跑，轉眼已跑到教院。如果熟悉那些取景地點，可能會有中大教院已經合併的幻覺。

節目二：交響情人夢1-8集

最感動是真澄說：全世界的打擊樂器都是屬於我的！
還有抬著大鼓呻吟說：好想回山形！

是無知還是什麼

昨日去了官方舉辦之就業講座。從來沒有想過自己要／想這些東西，排隊入場的時候，除了同行的黃同學，舉目也沒有看見認識的人，想來真是青春不再呢。

場內幾乎滿座。負責協助同學就業的部門的主管擔任主持，簡介該部門服務，預告未來進駐校園舉行就業講座的大公司，等等等等。中段有一部份簡介工作及就業市場的最新發展，工作流動性、multi-tasking及勞工彈性化等耳熟能詳的所謂現實被奉若聖旨，聽起來也真是唏噓，但也許只是少見多怪。

我們心虛地坐在大講堂的最後排，無從得知其他同學看到中大畢業生平均起薪點、就業成功率、各大僱主對中大畢業生表現的意見時的表情。是嚮往、自信、驕傲還是不屑一顧？我無法投入，因為我對那一列投資銀行名單只有「不需要考慮的大公司」的刻板想像。平日同學訴說有商界面試碰的各式軟硬釘子，在股票市場的起落廝殺，我想不如他們直接告訴我戶口存款數字的升解比較容易理解。

有時我抗拒想像事業。情感上覺得除了那些MT保險營業代表飲食業之外什麼都可以做，但又還想有空閒時間、有假期、有去旅行的餘錢。某些對所謂小資生活或閒暇的想像和留戀與我的就業基本態度之間似乎有著一股不可跨越的鴻溝。什麼才是理解自己的表現，給自己的機會、放過自己的程度怎樣才算多怎樣才算少，現下我並沒有答案。

有了這個你要做什麼

是日好書：So What Are You Going To Do With That? Finding Careers Outside Academia。其他同學的經驗，彷彿稍稍提高了我對於求職的危機意識──只是稍稍，也不知是可惜還是幸運。於是，今天從圖書館借來了此書。沒有了書衣，全黑的封面，帶著芝大出版社的金漆招牌，與一般thesis用書無異，但背後卻埋藏著驚世（？）大陰謀──當你覺得自己餘生都要在書堆和愚蠢的學生群中度過時，如何跳出所謂的學院。適用者除讀了六七年還未畢業的研究生外，還有不想再教書和對著同事快發癲的教授們。

書的後半部進入了一些超級技術性的求職處境，現在沒有心情細看，前半部則花了不少篇幅處理與supervisor之間的角力。當然我與馬生在畢業與否方面沒有分歧──我想快走，他想快把我踢走──但可以想像的是在餘下的一年間，他還是會像一隻可怕的哥斯拉。此書一語道破，而我也真的馬上承認了：

Among the many fears that can keep a distressed graduate student awake at night, the biggest one is usually: Should I finish my dissertation or not? While we can’t tell you what the right answer is, we tell you that you don’t have to torture yourself by trying to decide on an absolute “yes” or “no.”
Instead, concentrate on taking control of your progress in the short term… We’re just trying to correct the over-inflated idea most grad students have of their adviser’s investment in their progress. Admit it: you’ve probably had nightmares in which your adviser has wreaked Godzilla-like havoc on your tiny studio apartment. (pp.24-25)

愈來愈多的恐懼使論文變得愈來愈不可觸碰，這也是我熟知的遊戲規則（for losers’ reference）：

Aside from writing your dissertation and teaching classes, what else are you doing in graduate school? Keep a calendar to measure how you use your time for a week, and see how many hours you spend actually working versus how many hours you spend thinking about working, avoid working, feeling guilty about not working pretending to work… You know the game. (p.28)

即使偶然有些鼓勵性的評語，面前好像向著完成論文的方向展開了條康莊大道，我的生活還是如此：

…Rodney Whitlock, a political science Ph.D. who now burns the midnight oil working on Capitol Hill, recalls similar grad school frustrations. “I hated the feeling that you were never really busy, and never really not busy. I hated the nagging feeling over the weekends,” Whitlock remembers. (p.29)

開學首星期就看到這本書，可能也是好開始吧。

爭少少

其實是否爭少少，我就可以說服自己，有些東西是永遠不會再回來，再試也沒有用了……？

開學誌

告別人生最後一個暑假。如果可以的話，真想這個夏天可以重頭來過，但當然是不可能的，學還是開了。

開學前的最後一天，笨手笨腳的交了論文，今日與馬生談了，似乎不錯，他說「幾好」的時候，我還呆了半秒。以故作輕快的步伐尾隨他走進房間，坐下，一談就是半個多小時。他為我留下了一堆兩難，以及下次要交的東西。還好，中期目標算是達到。

馬生是奸的──這是暑假期間的口頭禪。雖然他沒有日日夜夜在旁邊nag大家要做這做那，但每次見到他出現還是不禁為自己的緩慢進度嘆氣。在沒有課堂、沒有時間表的暑假，論文似乎是唯一的工作，所以它比平時任何時候都顯得沉悶和舉步維艱。平時沒有論文，還有當代政治學和空間政治，所以論文的厭惡性相對地大大減少。但當世界上只剩下論文，畢業的日子與現在的距離就像鐵軌一樣長（中學之後也沒有再看余光中了，哈）。

今日主要的收獲是確定了研究假設的方向，還有得到一些做case studies的具體建議。基本上研究沒有什麼創新之處，只是將外國文獻裡描述的現象拿來香港驗一驗，看看大家期望的事情有沒有發生。我假設那些事情沒有發生，基於在香港出現的某些intervening variables，這些intervening variables當中大部份也自然是抄考自馬生的著作，我的工作可能只是嘗試把他講的東西放在我的研究範圍中再講多次。

連自己的論文也可講得如此模棱兩可，除了故作神秘，應也只能解釋為自信嚴重不足吧，哪怕我信誓旦旦的希望勇往直前。開學了，新人事新作風，唯有逼自己快快追上成長的步伐。

共勉之

Some Advice for Postgraduate Students from Scott Keogh

* Go for the total package – learn how to write, speak, teach and get grants.
* Spend time in the library every week to check out the latest journals.
* Be a scholar, stay up to date on your research.
* Get some teaching experience.
* Go to meetings and conferences and present your work in talks and posters. It is important to get to know the players in your field and to interact with them.
* Be active in your professional societies. Many have roles that students and postdocs can play.
* Go to all your departmental seminars.
* Get as much public speaking experience as you can through giving informal talks, formal seminars and teaching.
* Publish your research results - if you don't write it, you didn't do it! Besides, publications are very important for your long-term career.
* Publish your research results early and often. Space your writing over the entire course of your graduate work, don't try and do everything at the end.
* Learn how to convey your research results to a lay audience, write a popular article about your research and give talks to amateur societies.
* Follow through on your good ideas. Remember that only completed projects count.
* Be a critical and independent thinker, don't believe everything you hear or read.
* Be active in your department to gain experience, but not too active. Remember that the main reason you are there is to do research.
* Get to know your fellow graduate students well and take all the opportunities you can to talk about science – they are your current and future scientific peers.
* Be dedicated to your project and don't waste time.
* Get experience in giving constructive criticism and participating in your field – ask your supervisor to give you manuscripts to review or once you have published a few papers yourself, tell the editors of professional journals that you are interested in reviewing manuscripts for them.
* Go to "how to" workshops on writing, teaching, grantsmanship, computer skills and so on. These new skills can save you tremendous amounts of time in the long run.
* Be a bibliophile. Build a reprint and photocopy library of research papers in your field and keep it up to date and well organised. Learn now to use a bibliography program and enter all your papers into it. Nothing makes writing research papers easier than having a well-organised library at your fingertips.
* Be active in journal clubs or scientific discussion groups, many people learn more from these than from their supervisors or any other aspect of their more formal teaching experiences.
* Be highly organised and have a simple and efficient filing system. As you progress you will forget what's in the various paper piles as the piles grow and multiply.
* Be a good correspondent, we all hate not hearing back from people in a timely manner.
* Save all your correspondence (including emails) both received and sent and keep it well organised. You will be surprised how often you need to refer to old letters and emails.
* Be a good collaborator because we all hate dealing with bad collaborators. This means doing what you say you are going to do and if you can't, be honest about it sooner rather than later.
* Talk about your ideas with others.
* Be thankful of constructive criticism, and don't let it hurt your feelings. You will have to deal with criticism your entire professional life, so learn how to deal with it in a positive way. Remember, constructive criticism is meant to be constructive - they are trying to make it better!
* Don't be afraid to seek out help and advice when you need it and from whatever source you think might best be able to give it. We all need help and the outcome will always be better for having received it.

好多了，謝謝貓和花旦。

Babbling

I have never thought of seeking help from self-help books. However, I do it this time. Don’t ask me why, cause I have no idea either. Desperate people manage to do anything silly.

I ordered some from books.com.tw yesterday. While it is celebrating its 12th anniversary recently, so many of the books are on sale. I also borrowed some from the university library. This is the first time that I realize its collection is such a huge one.

It has been the 5th day that I return single. Basically I have no progress on my thesis, and I am shameless to the extent that I have had tea with my supervisor for 3 days as if nothing has happened (on being set a deadline for the work, of course). I keep telling myself, okay, he is not coming back. He is not going to change his mind. He enjoys his own life now. He doesn’t need me now. Even if he needs someone, that won’t be me anyway.

I also tell myself that I am living my own life. I ask friends for dinner. I write my new blog. I go here and there alone. I eat all kinds of vegetarian food. I laugh hard. I sleep hard. But then his image is still vivid. There are still hopes that he would ring me up soon. I know it sucks, but it really happens, ridiculously. No matter how self-help books teach all kinds of forgetting strategies and how people should live better than your ex-partner, he is still there regardless of the fact that I have followed almost all the rules.

If I dared to say that he had been treating me very badly, and waiting for him had been such a tiring job, it would be a lot better, because I would be obsessed with hatred but not something like love, concern and missing him. I do not wish that he would become my number one enemy, regardless of the fact that another little voice in my heart says “why not” if I have no courage to face him from now on anyway. I am reminded over and over again how sweet he was, how quiet he was, and how caring he was. Things and memories just don’t pass by time. Conversely, they are reinforced by time.

I have no idea when these gotta end.

He is still there anyway.

Today is the first day that I shed no tears. I woke up after 8 hours of sleep. I went to school. I picked some books for returning to the library. I had tea with Steve, May and Ma Ngok at UC Canteen. Then I sat in front of the computer until now. Everything seems normal, and I am as listless as usual.

I was suddenly obsessed with fear that I would forget how he looks like very soon, and I don’t know whether I should let this happen. I haven’t seen him for weeks. I keep an ID photo of his in the wallet, but I dare not to take it out. The same applies to the photo stickers that we took after Ball’s farewell dinner a year ago. Photos of him taken throughout the past years are stored in the old computer, and I dare not to turn it on. Some of the photos are still stored in my digital camera, and I haven’t taken it out from my bag for a week. His face is still vivid as expected, but unapproachable. My vocabulary is insufficient to describe his smell, but anyhow I remember it as clearly as usual.

I try not to think about him so frequently. I go to bed right after I arrive home every day. I ignore the old computer and the Don Don lamp on my desk. I imprison the Kam Kam doll in the most inner part of my wardrobe. I avoid sending SMS to people. I order vegetarian meals. I stop paying attention to bus routes and names of roads. I stop reading Xanga subscriptions (sorry for the others on my subscription list that I intentionally stop learning whether you are doing well because of this). I limit the checking of emails to 4 times a day. I escape from soccer news, particularly those about FC Barcelona.

Regardless of these efforts, I still see him sitting next to me. I still hear myself babbling to him. I still find myself thinking of revisiting places that we have visited, new places to take him to, and new jokes to tell him, though he might not be interested at all. Sometimes I persuade myself that I am used to doing them all the time, waiting for unknown replies at any moment. I have always been waiting for something, either acceptance or refusal, and I am used to getting refusal. Nothing is new, including the sense of abandonment and, ridiculously, the sense of intimacy derived from it.

Mom left a message that pride should not be deprived of. Somehow I can’t agree with this. If pride has really mattered, I would not have been sustained till now. The day when my pride is picked up again is the day when he is entirely driven out of my heart, but this seems to be far beyond my imagination and, probably, willingness. I really hate myself like this because, again and sad to say, this is the part of mine that he dislikes.

Records

He never wrote to me by hand. Handwriting is tiring, while you have to think very carefully before you actually write something. Editing is not easy. Making a decision to rewrite after several attempts is hard. It also demands too much sincerity and courage which push oneself into limits of no return. I guess he would not be hardhearted to tell, or to speak the truth, capable of telling, me his thoughts clearly to my face. That is why email and SMS were his only choices.

I made a record of his SMSs by typing them on the notepad, so I could free space in the inbox of my phone for upcoming ones. I typed his messages, his name as the sender, and the exact time and date when I received them. His language habit was outlandish, while he used to skip either subjects or objects, and write with self-invented abbreviations. I always misread, and I got angry with him at the beginning. He then blamed me as the only one around him who had experienced such reading obstacles. So I shut up, persuading myself as a poor reader.

I also printed hardcopies of his emails and blog entries. For emails, all of those printed were his thoughts on my temper, my harsh demands on him, and his confusion of how we should get along with each other. Or to make it simple, something negative, stressful and harsh. For blog entries, most of them were not about me, but I guessed they implied something about me. He never told me straightly anyway. I folded them up and kept them in a compartment of the bag that I usually carried to school. I had read them for hundreds of times on the train, in the office, on the bench next to UCC, and at home. Margins of the paper were all worn out, and the colour almost faded away completely. I always burst into tears at the beginning, but later I got conditioned to the sorrowful status. No matter how sad I felt like, it was just like self-accusation and self-abuse. He did not know, and I did not intend to tell him either.

Sometimes I blamed myself for not being comforting enough, stopping him from telling me his mind. I seldom listened thoroughly, and I gave no appropriate response, didn't I? Trial and error just did not work. In desperate moments, I gave up thinking of the qualities of someone whom he is comfortable to speak to, with the belief that no matter how hard I work beyond my perceived range, I am not the right one.

I am not the right one. So, this is the only thing that I can tell myself, regardless of the fact that I would never want to believe in it.

Reminders are everywhere.

I felt slightly better today, after convincing myself that he would never change his mind. The only things for me to do may include forgetting and cherishing the hope that the next one would suit me better.

Forgetting is by no means a piece of cake (I learnt this from Roadshow, anyway). I was reminded of him non-stop while seeing all those establishments, people, and even food. We watched The Double Life of Veronique. We attempted to feed a black kitten with cornflakes near a pool, and remembered that kittens drink milk only on the next day. We exchanged our ID photos on a bench. We took our last picture together at the Queen’s Pier, which was still in use, and he avoided my lens afterwards. He remembered to bring a torch with him when we went hiking. He had a long monologue on whether to discontinue our relationship on a footbridge. He walked me home. He bought me cup noodles and biscuits. He asked me to print him copies of required readings for Contemporary Political Science. He eats no vegetables except broccoli. He avoids travelling by railway whenever riding on a bus is an alternative. He has been doing hairdressing for himself since Form 6. He writes to newspapers, and posts articles not published on his blog. He shares comics with his sister. He listens to Janice and Stephy. He likes soccer as much as Ma Ngok. He likes movies as much as Hehe. He speaks as softly as Szeling. He is as determined as May.

I practised inputting Chinese characters on SMS faster. I broke his (and also Tam’s) record on Minesweeper. I bought a few issues of Soccer Weekly and read about Argentine players in La Liga. I learnt to travel by bus and minibus. I learnt to appreciate B-movies and Hong Kong productions. I waited for his calls and date by working hard in the office. I tried to control my temper. I paid attention to the updates of Pets@Work. I travelled alone to Taitung after having a big fight with him, and he met me at the airport when I returned. I imagined him jumping into my sight all of a sudden when I was damn frustrated on schoolwork. I thought about how to speak my mind more clearly. I acted painstakingly in front of him. I cried to him shamelessly. I wrote to him in English on the Valentines’ Day, with the hope of sounding subtler. I longed for meeting him for dinner. I felt jealous of people whom he talked to cheerfully. I tried to read his mind, but then, failed.

Retrospection. Resentment. Reinforcement. Curses. Self-pity. Whatever you call them.

Part of me is gone

I have been writing on Blurty since December 15 2002, my eighteenth birthday. There I have gone through my secondary school and university life, the golden period of my teenage, and my postgraduate life, which is still in progress. I am used to indicate my schedule and life pattern in accordance with the school calendar. That is, July and August are months of relaxation, since it is when the summer vacation is on-going. I always want to go to play in December, while it is the semester break. However, the above indication would become ineffective soon, when the term “semester” and “vacation” can no longer be distinguished from each other.

In case most of the people who know me didn’t know, I have gone out with three guys. My first break-up was in the second semester of Form 6, during the peak time of the preparation of Hot-La-La (sorry that I have forgotten the exact English title). I was, technically, dumped by Mr. C, but the feeling of discomfort did not last long. I thought I had more than enough friends to support my life, and being dumped just didn’t matter at all. Or frankly speaking, I was not committed to the relationship from the bottom of my heart. In the second attempt with Mr. N, I was slightly more committed, but still, in a carefree manner. After long struggles and distresses, breaking up became a gateway to freedom and relief.

Yesterday I experienced the third one. I am lucky enough to get this at the age of 22, which means that the former part of my life has been such a success. But now, I am watching part of me being torn off, with no way to change the situation. I think I have tried hard enough to be good, to be strong and considerate, but then the effort does not deserve little appreciation, while I am considered “not getting on the right track” at all.

I never think we are a good match, but at least we share bittersweet moments. Anyway, the game is finally over, and I have lost. What ironic is, I am never confident enough to be granted his promises, as well as prospect of our future. I know I knew that at the very beginning, as every body else did too. He is definitely not the one who I manage to grasp. However, what happened afterwards, was I getting into it hard, straightly and shamelessly.

The conclusion that I, 22 going on 23, finally grow from defeat, could not be certainly drawn at the moment. I just think that adolescence has come to an end eventually. I am welcomed to the real world, where love and patience just don’t play a part. Therefore, Blurty, the embodiment of memories, happiness, encouragements, discouragements, failures, success, whatsoever, would no longer be in use.

It is my youth, and I am no longer young, I guess.

我好悶

悶到生哂草。

一年前

與今天似乎沒有兩樣。