又是一个周末， 在矛盾不安中度过。心里面总挂念着工作里要做的事情，另外一方面又觉得周末该休息休息了， 做点别的， 偷个懒。

每当这时都有种喘不过气来的感觉， 不知道自己想要点什么， 咖啡也好，甜食也好，香烟也好。

 

坐在阳台上， 聆听远处小虫的叫声，近处人家的餐具声和电视声， 有点想家。 不记得是哪天我突然一数离开家已经十年了。 十年这个整数让自己吃了一惊， 也给了想家的心情一个很好的理由。累了， 我这么安慰自己。 不知什么时候开始便再也藏不住内心的空虚和不安， 那个一直维系着的开心和年轻的外壳在融化，就象母亲说的慢慢被摸平了棱角。 喜欢我行我素的自己开始学会了叹气和独自静坐， 学会了等待， 学会了期待。 以为自己想要的不过就是生活， 可是发现生活本身和我想要的不太一样。

Again, it's about The Kite Runner. After 'meeting the auther Khaled Hosseini', we went for a coffee. S excitedly recorded down the Qs&As in the couch.

I was reading some other fiction, but the brain was still filled with the vivide scenes spreaded in my imagination and how the auther seemed to be a little bit unexpected. When seated on the stage, he immediately grabbed the water glass and since then was nervously shaking feet. From time to time he covered half of his face with hand gently and thinked. There's a very confident smile on his face and the way he answered audiances' questions was calm and relaxed. I did not like his presented self-confidence too much, a little bit flashy, a little bit unexpected. I hope that might be something not quite himself, but he put on to cover his sensitiveness...

Then S asked me how I liked the novel I was reading. I said just cann't get into it. S said huh, you do not like complicated logical stories. Well, I thought that is somehow true, and I can not easily get out of a mood.      

 

Walking down the university avenue in the evening, I was wearing a winter coat. The lights of the stores and restaurants flashed by, and I started to feel familiar with the streets; where I parked my car in the summer, which coffee shops I've been to, which movies I've seen in that old theatre. Well, it takes time for one to get familiar with and used to things. I feel no longer a total stranger on this street and the lights no longer flash coldness in this expensive neighbourhood of Palo Alto. There's some warmness that I want to breathe.

When I am sitting there sipping the orange juice, it feels so familiar and yet so strange. Do I know the people on the streets? Some look familiar some don't. Some remind me of some other places. Those places and faces hidden inside my memory, do they belong to me or maybe I belong to them? Things are changing that when returning to grab those in my memory I fail most of the time. Can one just relax and not try to grab something...Can one just record her version of things that she cares about...Can one always look forward...And at these moments when hitting these thoughts I miss those old friends, I hope we are sitting together sharing a conversation and some coffee and tea.

It has been cloudy recently. After a week of PMS my world is safe and peaceful in this gray dome.

Another Friday afternoon, there's soup cooking in the kitchen, ambient music flowing and me in the coutch blogging.

There's always some stimulations in life. Just a few days ago I started to dicover divorce and women's identity in marriage.

 

Still remember the first time heard about some friend's divorce, I had a nightmare of my father leaving mom and me, and found myself burst into a good cry in the middle of the next day. Is it that this reality broke one's naive dream of holy and forever love, that relationship is forever a relationship, that love for something of a relative eternity can give one an illusion of strength?