stories

nameless poison
its not quite end of the year yet, but i've really been itching to say that the best thing of 2013 has been this book. (~its chinese version)
http://www.booksfromjapan.jp/publications/item/686-nameless-poison
maybe just with a tiny bit of melodrama, i think it has taught me more about psychiatry and the human condition than all of my exam studies put together. (looking back i really havent studied that adequately but thats quite beside the point. )
i have never before seen the concept of normal vs abnormal, or the essential lack of difference at their roots, being put in such straighforward but eloquent ways.
to the point it really challenged my own internal boundaries.

end of the day it was probably my own fault. when stuck in china i read two books around the same time: this one and another-
http://books.google.com.au/books/about/Soulstealers.html
They were both so powerful in their own ways, and became a deadly combination. on top of family stresses for a while literally i felt hundred years of human poison crushing down on me and wondered there must be something terribly wrong with me or this world or both...
everything became much clearer when what i have learnt were able to seep through at work. now at the other end of the tunnel (hopefully), what i managed to take away from it all, has been priceless.

legs
some of the familiar chinese tales i've read as a child now give me very uncomfortable feelings. i guess traditional chinese culture rarely showed any respect to individual emotions, and i am finding this aspect much harder to tolerate now.

there is a story about this man who found a rare jade stone, travelled to the capital and dedicated it to the king. The king thought it was a fake, got angry and chopped off the man's left leg. History repeated itself when the old king died and the man tried his luck with the new king and this time paid his price with the right leg.

with his legs gone but arms still holding tightly onto the stone, the man cried his eyes out, sat facing a mountain near his home. He came to authority attention when his tears turned into blood, and was then offered an opportunity to vent his grievances. there was a newer king on the throne now so he was summoned back, Expert jade masons extracted really precious jade from the stone which then became the national treasure. the end.

it aggravates me, where different versions of the story invariably ended.
i can't get over the legs, sorry.  i wonder if he needed happy pills for the rest of his life.

the last child
i decided to use up the last few days of my leave (before they get grabbed by anyone else or any other demands) so i can force myself to do some writing. i recently realised that there are still people reading my old stories. i felt quite stoked.

in fact if i am not slowly back on track and feeling more prepared to do this new one, i probably would not have the capacity to return and respond to whats happening with the old. over the years they have somewhat took on symbolic significance to remind me of stages of my own life, but otherwise, i think i have treated them almost like abandoned children.
because of the birth pains i wanted little attachment with them or hoped to not care about their progress after they came into being. 

i've never been comfortable tellling people specifics about them either. i dont know if its just projected rejection anxiety or it has been my way of keeping my east and west separate, my real and imaginary worlds separate.
or it is simply: *i-really-cannot-tolerate-thinking-what-other-people-could-potentially-think-of-me-after-they-see-this-ahhhhh....*
but i need to move ahead with the new. i will need to eventually get very comfortable of east mingling with west, and real mingling with imaginary.
and the psychological barriers too.

so, my favourite out of all my abandoned children (the others are closeby):
http://www.jjwxc.net/onebook.php?novelid=1387382
i guess there is a place even for a prodigal parent coming back.