V for Vendetta

Remember, remember, the fifth of November, the gunpowder treason and plot. I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.

I watched V for Vendetta today. I must say that it is a very, very good movie. I was awed by the number of words starting with the letter "V" one can use in a paragraph, when V introduced himself to Evey...

V: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you, and you may call me V.

Evey: Are you like a crazy person?

V: I'm quite sure they will say so.

The story of human hair

Today I decided to get in touch with my sophisticated, cultural self and visited the Hong Kong Museum of Art. There was a special exhibition of hair (see picture below). The introduction to the exhibition indicates that there are always stories behind human hair – and I couldn’t agree with it more…

I remember the hairy Russian babushka I saw while walking down the street in Moscow; she had enough facial hair to knit a winter sweater! And I remember flying squirrel’s notorious (and provocative) claim that there was a link between hairiness (and the number of apocrine sweat glands) and ethnic groups. And I remember being laughed at because I am noticeably hairless – and I retorted that my scarcity of hair was due to natural evolution, in which I have evolved to adapt to the environment, far more advanced than the great ape families. In all cases, there are, indeed, lots of stories behind all sorts of human hairs…

Shoes made of hairs neatly arranged on the floor of the modern art section.

My dad and younger sister's birthday

My fault for setting a slow shutter speed for this picture - hence the blurred face of my second sister. Anyway, look at that cake! The topping is made of mango and strawberry. The middle layer is filled with mango, while the base is made of crispy white-chocolate wafers and crunchy milk-chocolate nuggets. *Drool* Slurp!

A piece of my life

I may work for money, but I will give a piece of my life for meaning.

Think about it, don't we all? We all need a noble cause – something that we can talk about five years or fifty years from now because it is meaningful and we are proud of it. Yet, when I think about it more and more, noble cause will definitely demands a noble price, or some kind of noble sacrifice. Am I, and are you, brave enough to do so?

After Stalin's death, Khrushchev was addressing the Supreme Soviet and denouncing Stalin's horrific crimes against his people, who were then appalled by the unimaginable scale of Stalin's evil. Then, from the back of the hall, someone yelled, “Comrade Krushchev, you were there. You were with Stalin. Why didn't you stop him?” Krushchev paused for a moment, his eyes scouring the crowds. “Who said that?” he yelled. “Who said that?” he roared again. There was no reply. No hand was raised. After a terrible silence, Khrushchev finally said, “Now you know why.”

Courage is, perhaps, the attribute that should matter the most in life because it is the strength you need during your leap of faith. So-what if you leaped and fall hard? Just remember the man in the arena, who “at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.” After all, we are not supposed to reach the end of our journey in this life unscathed in an immaculate tuxedo. We should be grinning with few front teeth missing, band-aid all over, champagne in one hand and a chocolate-dipped strawberry in the other, and arrive at the destination on a skateboard.

I may work for money, but I will give a piece of my life for meaning… that’s what I’m going to tell my prospective employer in my next interview.

We are on a journey

Toussaint’s comment reminded me of a prose I read a few months ago when I was traveling. I found this inspiring prose in the little book titled “The Most Beautiful Proses.” I bought it in Beijing for 20 RMB…

An excerpt from “Ships and Havens” by Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933):

“…wherever you are, and whoever you may be, there is one thing in which you and I are just alike, at this moment, and in all the moments of our existence. We are not at rest; we are on a journey. Our life is not a mere fact; it is a movement, a tendency, a steady, ceaseless progress towards an unseen goal. We are gaining something, or losing something, every day. Even when our position and our character seem to remain precisely the same, they are changing. For the mere advance of time is a change. It is not the same thing to have a bare field in January and in July. The season makes the difference. The limitations that are childlike in the child are childish in the man.

Everything that we do is a step in one direction or another. Even the failure to do something is in itself a deed. It sets us forward or backward. The action of the negative pole of a magnetic needle is just as real as the action of the positive pole. To decline is to accept — the other alternative.

… Are you nearer to your port today than you were yesterday? Yes, — you must be a little nearer to some port or other; for since your ship was first launched upon the sea of life, you have never been still for a single moment; the sea is too deep, you could not find an anchorage if you would; there can be no pause until you come into port.”

I am truly grateful for the many encouraging messages from all of you these past few days. Compared to life’s many tragedies and sad stories, my worries certainly sound like whining. I am alright now.

Let's Dance!

I have watched this at least 5 times...
Let's Dance! on Transbuddha

Self-Pity

It has been three weeks since I started looking for a job here in Hong Kong. Other than a few phone interviews and an equal number of rejection emails, there is pretty much no response from them. Morale has never been poorer. I began to doubt everything about myself, my presumably much-sought-after MBA background, my superficially multi-lingual fluency, and my bland professional experience.

Every night I gaze out of the window and see a beautiful Hong Kong skyline… and wonder when can I gaze out of the window from one of the offices over there, and then marvel at how funny life is for playing tricks on me during my job-hunting chapter.

“Tomorrow will be better,” I keep telling myself. One night – that is the maximum amount of time I should give myself for self-pity. At the crack of dawn, I must get over it.