Bright Moon, When Can I Hold You?
There are some things I want to write down.
A bean-sized drop of sweat fell to the ground. I noticed another drop land on the conveyor belt of the security scanner.
Because I had to get from BUPT to Beijing West Railway Station, check in, and board the train within half an hour: during the frantic dash, I only stopped to catch my breath while queuing, and once again noticed the ground.
A year has passed.
Some questions, once they take shape from mere thoughts into concrete language in the mind, already have their answers. This article was started a month ago, born from scattered musings. While eating, waiting for the bus, walking, or trying to sleep—any moment my mind wandered slightly—they would seize the chance to rush from all corners of the world and burrow into my head. But when I truly tried to grasp them, they would betray me, slipping away as if deliberately keeping their distance.
But regardless, after a whole year, there are always things I want to write.
The Old Steed in the Stable
Both ends of this year—the beginning and the end—were marked by the MSC Summer Camp. Let’s start from there.
Compared to last year, this time I distinctly felt a sense of loss. The reasons, aside from carrying mental baggage, were that I had reserved the space for such precious memories for last year, holding back somewhat. Thinking this way, even I find it a bit melodramatic—but it’s true. So I didn’t participate much in the discussions, except for one time when a chubby teammate proposed an idea so worthy of attack that I couldn’t help but argue.
On Day 2, everyone went to Nanluoguxiang. The familiar subway station railings lacked Yongge leaning against them, and the bustling alley had lost its novelty for me. While having the string of my bracelet replaced in one of the small shops, I sacrificed a bead—it flew off onto the street when the shop owner cut the old string and was never found. Beyond anger, I faintly felt this was actually fate.
So I skipped Day 3’s City Tour to find Xiao Dai. I figured a year wouldn’t change a person’s appearance much, so I recognized her at first glance as she rushed out energetically from the direction of the Intelligent Building to open the door. It was truly delightful! Visiting a friend without any baggage. I secretly resolved to remember the library of the Intelligent Building and those punk-style high-rises in Zhongguancun. Two days later, I added another obsession to the list: I must eat the Yellow Peach Beef Tenderloin at BUPT one more time in this life.
The Bitter Days Gone By
The brief trip to the capital has ended.
I returned to my balanced yet unstable life. Balanced because I am content within it and do not seek change. Unstable because underlying pressures make one attempt changes or become颓废 (decadent). Long ago in Chinese class when I learned the word “颓废,” I didn’t know it would become my great enemy.
To put it plainly, I am too good to myself, unable to bear making myself act decisively and swiftly. I need some刺激 (stimulus) to move forward, to experience immense怅然 (melancholy) the moment a dream shatters, and thus seek change.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Like the怅然 Keats felt after watching the nightingale fly away until its song disappeared. Only, my pressure doesn’t come from a terminal illness; I’m more youthful and hopeful than this ill-fated poet. But tell me, why am I becoming more and more颓废?
Perhaps this is me going through the most difficult part of university.
But who knows.
How to Dispel Worry
How to dispel worry? Cao Cao’s answer seems quite ordinary to me. Drinking is always the easy choice. Everyone knows how to drown sorrows in wine, but waking up the next day only brings a headache that makes you reflect on life, with little other benefit. The answer to this question is probably different for everyone. For me, it seems the root of all problems lies in an inability to calm my mind; neither anxiety nor carefree无忧无虑 are normal emotions for a person. So we must all survive between these two extremes.
I thought of a movie I saw recently: Bright Star directly used the title of a sonnet Keats gave to Fanny, and the entire film tells the love story between Keats and Fanny in the three years before he died abroad. The whole movie is quiet and full of beauty, worth watching with a calm mind. What I want to talk about is Keats himself. After the film’s ending, text states: Keats died at twenty five, believing himself a failure. Today he is recognized as one of the greatest Romantic Poets. What I want to say is, think about Keats’s experiences. What made him? What caused his early death? Setting aside the possibility that he was a genius—which might not even be a reason. Because we all believe that the times make the hero, and the hero makes the times. People’s worlds influence each other. Under what circumstances can a person write such poetry? I think perhaps only in England at that time, under such窘迫困境 (dire straits), could Keats become Keats. People then revered art—poetry certainly included—while life was极其艰苦 (extremely hard). The poet could only break free from现实枷锁 (the shackles of reality) through thought, as said in Ode to a Nightingale:
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
So how to dispel worry? What is worth pursuing?
The answer isn’t that simple, but from what we see and learn, we can still find some clues.
Sing to Express My Aspirations
At the beginning of this article, I mentioned my trip to Beijing. Let’s continue from there.
On the night of Day 5, Cutuy and I talked in the hotel room almost the entire night. It was very enlightening. I mentioned before that the world is layered. What do we rely on to climb upward? What makes us climb faster? I’ve heard a saying and quite agree with it: We can change, because we are educated. Education brings a person knowledge and, through this knowledge, grants a broader vision. Through each person’s vision, we summarize what we see into methodology to establish ourselves in this world. But different perspectives lead to different conclusions. Thinking about it this way is quite interesting.
Later, I shamelessly went to BUPT to蹭 (mooch) a meal from Xiao Dai, then desperately ran (and rode) to West Station to catch the train. Hence the opening scene of sweat drops falling. So I started writing on the train and have been writing for ten days until today. How fortunate, let me sing to express my aspirations.