Hello, Tim!
It's Tuesday, and I have yet uploaded the letter of the week; certainly I have been writing some long-hauled letter recounting the exhilarating adventures/mishaps of the week!
Nope. I would very much like to have the ability to do so, just because that would indicate that I had enough time I can use on my own accord.
This week was indeed memorable, but when the waves crashed down at weekend, I felt like I had all the buoyant afterglow of the happiness that was cultivated throughout weekdays had been knocked out of my lungs. I'll delve back into that later in the following week.
I didn't even finish the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows by Sunday.
Sincerely,
Hugo
Tuesday, September 3, 2019
Monday, August 26, 2019
CH1. Life Goes On 12: Week of Young Adult Novels and Desserts
Hello, Tim!
This week I have been reading some of my letters from the past, and I was actually struck dumb by how many of those "more advanced" words I had been using, and I just had this sudden rush of guilt throwing a right hook at me.
I don't know what has happened; I suppose that it is just a lack of time that caused me to neglect thinking about the wording, but I certainly hope that my mind would be able channel to a more refined mindset so that my weekly journal would not seem so bland and/or shallow.
I am now surrounded by people in the cafe, with Angela sitting next to me. She says that she is relatively free of any meeting or obligation today but she seems to have decided that spending a day's worth of the sun wallowing in a nondescript corner of an unlit room is not suitable. She called me out of my sweet home so that we can enjoy some company in a slightly crowded cafe.
This week I have been reading some of my letters from the past, and I was actually struck dumb by how many of those "more advanced" words I had been using, and I just had this sudden rush of guilt throwing a right hook at me.
I don't know what has happened; I suppose that it is just a lack of time that caused me to neglect thinking about the wording, but I certainly hope that my mind would be able channel to a more refined mindset so that my weekly journal would not seem so bland and/or shallow.
I am now surrounded by people in the cafe, with Angela sitting next to me. She says that she is relatively free of any meeting or obligation today but she seems to have decided that spending a day's worth of the sun wallowing in a nondescript corner of an unlit room is not suitable. She called me out of my sweet home so that we can enjoy some company in a slightly crowded cafe.
Monday, August 19, 2019
CH1. Life Goes On 11: Not Knowing How to Do a Proper Harry Potter Review and Baby-Sitting
Hello, Tim!
I am now typing to the music from Eliza's ukulele in her room. Yesterday I slept over at her place, along with my little niece Sophie. This week my German class ended, and I had more time for more exciting (or tiring) adventures.
I am now typing to the music from Eliza's ukulele in her room. Yesterday I slept over at her place, along with my little niece Sophie. This week my German class ended, and I had more time for more exciting (or tiring) adventures.
Monday, August 12, 2019
CH1. Life Goes On 10: The Trip to Penghu (Part 2) and Oh How I Hate Open Endings
Today is Wednesday, and I am sitting in a random seat of Louisa, an uprising coffee brand in Taiwan. My mom cut off the unlimited Internet access at home, so I have to come out to places like this, order a cup of Oolong tea so that I can write something down in my computer.
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
CH1. Life Goes On 9: The Golden Apple and the Trip to Penghu
Hello Tim!
Due to the inadequate amount of time given in the previous few weeks, I mentioned nothing about EHP's planned three-day trip. There are just a lot of memories I would like to put down, so let's just move on fast.
Due to the inadequate amount of time given in the previous few weeks, I mentioned nothing about EHP's planned three-day trip. There are just a lot of memories I would like to put down, so let's just move on fast.
Sunday, July 28, 2019
CH1. Life Goes On 8: Driver's License and Thomas
Hello, Tim!
I have just spent five minutes recalling all the events of the previous week at the desk and Having taken so much time to do such made me realize that I haven't really been paying much attention to myself. Sure that I have done whatever I feel like doing, but I don't feel like I have been paying mind to what I FEEL at every single moment. In retrospect, it felt like a state of sleepwalking, or somnambulating; doing something, but not really registering anything. There are sure to be some highs in the week, and those are the things I want to grasp on this week.
I mentioned that two years ago when I was in England, when I learned that my first French teacher was actually quitting his job in the institution where I used to learn French and returning to France.
On his Facebook status we can frequently see his updates on his vacation in France and his decision to go work in Shanghai. He kept mentioning about the possibility of visiting Taiwan every once in a while, but it was only two years later did he actually come back. He is the kind of teacher you would miss: playful, patient, and a little but childish. Of course, when we heard about his pending return, we the classmates were all excited. Melody was the first to take initiative, organizing meetups, looking for restaurants for dinner. Melody and Candy were anxious. They left the French courses much earlier than I did, and even though I quitted about a year ago, I have never lost contact with the language. Either through reading children' books written in French or listening and singing to French pop songs, there isn't really a day I haven't passed without seeing at least a phrase or two in French. I did forget a great deal as to the many words learned in French classes, but I can still manage to strike up a conversation or two.
Wednesday, dinner night.
Thomas was sitting at the table across the warmly lit, spacious room as we pushed through the bulky door. His hair was shaven and looked significantly... heavier. But his smile showed that nothing was changed, and the French teacher we had come to be acquainted with.
Before I continue on, I want to give a bit more information on the dynamics of the class. Our class was, in fact, very openminded and free. When Candy, Melody, and I were still sixteen and seventeen, the other adult classmates were very open about everything, about love, about gossip, and about sexual orientation. It was the factor that made sure that our classes are filled with raucous laughter, and one that made it incredibly easy to come out as gay. The adults don't treat us the highschoolers as someone inferior and gave us a great time in general during classes.
Back to the dinner, our teacher shattered the initial silence by asking the folks at the table a question that threw us completely off kilter, "Do you guys have boyfriends yet?" The familiar lively feeling returned with the odd sense of humor of this odd teacher.
With basic French skills at my disposal, it would only make sense that I made the most of it to try to converse in French.
Thomas also happens to fit in the romantic stereotype of a French person. When Melody asked him about the tattoos that were visible from his sleeves' opening, a stylized symbol that looks like a capitalized "M". He stopped and thought for a moment. "It's short for Melody." Which led to another collective uproar. He then said that it was from a Japanese anime that he has grown infatuated with.
The light dinner was finished, and we proceeded to have some of our photos taken. Being a photo-awkward person, the others kept shouting advices as to what pose to use, until one of my lovable classmates -Jayce, I reckon- shouted out "Look at each other in the eye!" I barked out a laugh of surprise, but Thomas next to me, apparently had better ideas than to brush it off. He turned to me, a smile already tugging at his lips, and stared straight into my eyes.
I didn't know it would be so hard to keep eye contact. I see different shades of brown forming two concentric circles, focusing in the centers of the two circles were a pair of undilated dark pupils. It was mesmerizing, but it also felt like getting pulled into a dark current in the river. I heard Melody cry out with laughter, saying that the tip of my ears were bright red, that I blushed furiously, but I willed myself to hold the gaze a little longer, either for proving that this is a challenge I could surmount or for getting stuck by the pair of eyes I cannot really say. Anyway, the picture was taken, and it was really a novel experience for me. At the same time, it proved that our French teacher has "flirting" as a skill up his sleeves.
Sincerely,
Hugo
I have just spent five minutes recalling all the events of the previous week at the desk and Having taken so much time to do such made me realize that I haven't really been paying much attention to myself. Sure that I have done whatever I feel like doing, but I don't feel like I have been paying mind to what I FEEL at every single moment. In retrospect, it felt like a state of sleepwalking, or somnambulating; doing something, but not really registering anything. There are sure to be some highs in the week, and those are the things I want to grasp on this week.
Driving Test: Passed
"You have to do this in one go. One go only, there are no other choices or plan B for you to step back on. You are in the middle of a rapids, coursing and roaring with no large rocks behind you to return to the the side where you came from."
That was what I kept saying to myself on the day of my examination for my driver's license. I know it sounded like I was depicting the end of the world, but I sort of have a point; this is the last driving test I will be able to take before I fly to Germany for university (even though I am still waiting for the results) and I certainly want to have my diver's license in hand after having spent all the money and time trying to parallel park and doubting if my eyes are seeing correctly, not to mention that this is also my only ticket to apply for an international license, should the need to drive arises in Germany in the future. With the revelation weighs down on me, I was as taut as a bowstring throughout the day, no matter when I was taking the written tests for driving regulations or when I was waiting for my turn for the real diving test. I was numbered the 43rd doing the diving test, meaning there was plenty time for me to implode and innerly freak out before it really was my turn. By the time it was my turn sitting in the driver's seat, I was more numbed by the constant self-inflicted fear than I am afraid of the test. I guess it was why I could still stay calm on the surface, muttering all the steps as my hands and feet moved and motioned correspondingly.
As it turned out, I seemed to have overthought the whole deal of this examination. The judges were stern-faced and were barking orders that you are to follow, but unless you really do something out of bounds or turn the wheels to the completely wrong direction, you don't have to be asked out of the car, which indicates your failure of the test.
I passed, with a lot of luck, actually. I was really nervous when doing to the road trip section of the test, and I was minding too much of the judge's motion. As he abruptly shifted his left leg, I thought something I did went totally wrong, and I stepped on the brakes immediately, which almost brought the car to a complete halt. The judge practically bellowed at me, demanding me an explanation as to what in the world I was doing, in mid-turn at the corner of the road. I quickly loosened my grip on the brakes by retracting my right feet while muttering furtive apologies. But hey, I did it at the end of the day, didn't I?
In the driving courses I made several friends, one even from CCSH and happens to be Summer's student in another homeroom class. I know, that our chances of actually keeping in touch is bleak, but I thank the and my coach for being there with me, fighting alongside me when I was trying to rein in the metallic beast, teaching me what techniques there are to complete the test. Without them sitting next to me I the waiting line, also freaking out, I don't think I would make it to the finish line.
It was not an activity I willing those to engage in, taking up driving, but I know I enjoyed it like anyone who would love to drive even before the courses.
Notre professeur de français, il est rentré
That means "Our French Teacher Has Returned"I mentioned that two years ago when I was in England, when I learned that my first French teacher was actually quitting his job in the institution where I used to learn French and returning to France.
On his Facebook status we can frequently see his updates on his vacation in France and his decision to go work in Shanghai. He kept mentioning about the possibility of visiting Taiwan every once in a while, but it was only two years later did he actually come back. He is the kind of teacher you would miss: playful, patient, and a little but childish. Of course, when we heard about his pending return, we the classmates were all excited. Melody was the first to take initiative, organizing meetups, looking for restaurants for dinner. Melody and Candy were anxious. They left the French courses much earlier than I did, and even though I quitted about a year ago, I have never lost contact with the language. Either through reading children' books written in French or listening and singing to French pop songs, there isn't really a day I haven't passed without seeing at least a phrase or two in French. I did forget a great deal as to the many words learned in French classes, but I can still manage to strike up a conversation or two.
Wednesday, dinner night.
Thomas was sitting at the table across the warmly lit, spacious room as we pushed through the bulky door. His hair was shaven and looked significantly... heavier. But his smile showed that nothing was changed, and the French teacher we had come to be acquainted with.
Before I continue on, I want to give a bit more information on the dynamics of the class. Our class was, in fact, very openminded and free. When Candy, Melody, and I were still sixteen and seventeen, the other adult classmates were very open about everything, about love, about gossip, and about sexual orientation. It was the factor that made sure that our classes are filled with raucous laughter, and one that made it incredibly easy to come out as gay. The adults don't treat us the highschoolers as someone inferior and gave us a great time in general during classes.
Back to the dinner, our teacher shattered the initial silence by asking the folks at the table a question that threw us completely off kilter, "Do you guys have boyfriends yet?" The familiar lively feeling returned with the odd sense of humor of this odd teacher.
With basic French skills at my disposal, it would only make sense that I made the most of it to try to converse in French.
Thomas also happens to fit in the romantic stereotype of a French person. When Melody asked him about the tattoos that were visible from his sleeves' opening, a stylized symbol that looks like a capitalized "M". He stopped and thought for a moment. "It's short for Melody." Which led to another collective uproar. He then said that it was from a Japanese anime that he has grown infatuated with.
The light dinner was finished, and we proceeded to have some of our photos taken. Being a photo-awkward person, the others kept shouting advices as to what pose to use, until one of my lovable classmates -Jayce, I reckon- shouted out "Look at each other in the eye!" I barked out a laugh of surprise, but Thomas next to me, apparently had better ideas than to brush it off. He turned to me, a smile already tugging at his lips, and stared straight into my eyes.
I didn't know it would be so hard to keep eye contact. I see different shades of brown forming two concentric circles, focusing in the centers of the two circles were a pair of undilated dark pupils. It was mesmerizing, but it also felt like getting pulled into a dark current in the river. I heard Melody cry out with laughter, saying that the tip of my ears were bright red, that I blushed furiously, but I willed myself to hold the gaze a little longer, either for proving that this is a challenge I could surmount or for getting stuck by the pair of eyes I cannot really say. Anyway, the picture was taken, and it was really a novel experience for me. At the same time, it proved that our French teacher has "flirting" as a skill up his sleeves.
 |
| I was flustered. |
 |
| Oh and Candy got a new haircut. |
End and I was Late
Today is Monday of the following week. I started the letter yesterday late at night, but when my phone told me that it was two in the morning already, Mom happened to wake up momentarily from her sleep and was ticked off that I was not already in bed. With no other choices, I had to go to bed. I could have just stopped at the diver's license, but I felt like I would love to read about my reaction when I once stared into the depths of my very charming French teacher two or three years from today.
Sincerely,
Hugo
Monday, July 22, 2019
CH1. Life Goes On 7: Willow and my Black Circles
Hello Tim!
This week, without any apparent reason, I have been staying up late. Either for cell phone games or TV shows, it was already one or two days in the morning, and today when I was shaving (a new skill I acquired around the month I reached 18.) I noticed a faint pair of dark circles under my eye sockets, and just like that, I felt compelled to go to bed early from now on.
This week, without any apparent reason, I have been staying up late. Either for cell phone games or TV shows, it was already one or two days in the morning, and today when I was shaving (a new skill I acquired around the month I reached 18.) I noticed a faint pair of dark circles under my eye sockets, and just like that, I felt compelled to go to bed early from now on.
Willow: A Novel on Self-Harming, Love, Loss, and Redemption
This week's read is Julia Hoban's Willow. I first knew about this book back when I was in junior high, when I was browsing through the books in the school library, and I became intrigued by the Chinese translated cover: The Girl with no Tears.
The book holds the tale of a girl who was involved in a car accident that killed her parents. She was convinced that she was responsible for the tragedy that changed the lives of her brother and herself, and, finding no way to letup her guilt and pain, she found comfort in the metallic razor blades. By giving herself the gaping, gashing wounds inflicted upon by herself, she found salvation in the dulling pain that drew her deeper and deeper into the dark.
Self harming is a topic that is not often discussed, even rarer than LGBTQ issues. The words in the book really made you shudder, the drops of blood seem to have seeped out from between sentences. It made you wonder how much pain it would need to drive someone into doing something so harmful to yourself, being forced to be afraid that the "vice" would be revealed.
The main storyline was intertwined with a mention of Greek mythology, about Persephone and Demeter, about how the mother and the daughter was separated by the Underworld, as if the author was trying to mirror the emotions between the characters under her words. It is an enhancing read, to me especially when the main character talked about how she would no longer be anyone' child anymore, without anyone being there to listen to you recount the events of the day. I love my parents, and when I try to put myself in Willow's (protagonist) shoes, it felt quite panicking, actually.
This is a book that showed me different emotions, and the story it composed through words shows people the unnoticed voids in the heart they never knew existed.
Ending
I know there are more juicy details of the week, but I really need to sleep.
I just want my black circles to go away.
Sincerely,
Hugo
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