11/25

Many goodbyes will be said this winter, and it's no strange concept to me. Amongst the many people where the goodbyes are said, most are new people with new faces, with the exception of myself, who has been constant, or has at least appeared to be. Running through these goodbyes are of course complicated affairs - a little bit of good wishes, some bittersweet emotions, and many more lunch and coffee dates that are set up because departures tend to make people less timid. During these dates there are often lively discussions about a variety of issues, ranging from the more mundane ones of career, success, friends and family, to the more vague ones such as the values and perils of upholding morality, the courage of trust and the cowardice of the lack thereof, or just in general, how to remain upright in the face of the great bending pressure of the real world. These discussions certainly don't lead anywhere. They merely provide an air cover for something that may or may not fully exist, which is respect with a little bit of genuine affinity, to the extent appropriate and feasible in the context of a four-story corporate office building.

The end of every episode, however brief, in my life has come with its unique flavor of being hectic in a good way. The end of one thing often implies the debut of another. Even though I have cycled through quite a bit of these, I must confess that I have never successfully come to terms with the end of anything, regardless of its nature. So I carry with me as much as I can remember, so that the debut of the new thing could be shared between me and my past. But my memories aren't quite long-lasting either. At the end I don't remember a thing no more and can only vague feel what was previously there. This time it is no different. The two years of myriad things cannot be remembered fully, nor understood, nor defined neatly, I could only feel some of the hopes and some of the despairs as the end of another episodic past nears again while I keep going on as if it's not. But of course it is, and perceptibly so. As a result, the loose ends I haven't tied up or are still churning out will probably remain loose, adrift in the inexorable forward marching of time. I could only send them off in evenings like this one, in front of a computer screen and only with a whimper, hoping that eventually some of them will be caught.

Many years ago, I once felt that "large hopes are difficult to find". But to me now perhaps as someone a bit more seasoned, finding hope and hope itself are indeed quite distinct terms. Hope, whether found or not, remains, for it isn't a concept in the school of realism, it's a product of the mind, and it isn't large or small. And I think I still have it despite or because of the past two years, evidenced by my moving around, or to borrow the words of a certain British gentleman, my many jitters. I can't yet discern what the past two years have imbued in me, or whether anything has ever been fully imbued in me. I feel I have remained more or less structurally the same, only a bit more composed here, or a touch too easy there compared to before.

As such, going back into my new life in the old country shouldn't be too dire.

11/2

Perhaps adulthood isn't so much measured by age, but by distance from the last folly. The follies in my life so far have been at first unknowingly carried out, and then with time, more intently done. But as of late, I can't quite recall when the last folly was. It probably wasn't even in this country. Over time I have learned to sense where things are going, and to believe what I sense, and very few things, especially humanly ones, manage to surprise me. Hence I simply more or less successfully maneuver around what's ahead of me based on what has and has not worked in the past. In my maneuvers there are not exquisite strategies or exact calculations. Reality often does not require such strategies and calculations to find its way. If it does, then it often means it isn't reality - it is rather my will imposed on it. Reality needs simple things, nice words for the ego, uttered through smiley eyes, feigned knowledge, demonstrated through pretty formats, and an unwavering commitment to remain agreeable, especially socially. The paradigm is widely applicable, I needn't engage too much of my mind. From this vantage point, things are not only manageable but also quite predictable. I maybe have finally understood what "overthinking" means - a unique form of hubris in the belief that one could reconcile reality with belief, rather than the other way around. In overthinking there has been much anguish that has been present for the better part of my life. By shedding that hubris, everything has felt way better. Even in the entire routine of my current walk of life, going to the office, coming back from the office, waiting for the weekend, enjoying the weekend, and getting two paychecks every month, there isn't much friction. It does not mean that friction does not spring into existence. It's just that I have become quite good at nullifying it as it pops up. I do it in the same way a cat licks itself, along the fur and not against it. And I judge the outcome by whether the fur has been straightened and disaster averted, and not through value lenses like honesty, integrity, skepticism, which are anyways dubious, overly grandiose words in the context of the current day and age.

I can however notice that many people still view the world through the many lenses they wear. And these are all different lenses. Some are a rose-tinted pair to show certain things in certain colors; some are rather magnifying glasses or kaleidoscopes that either needlessly exaggerate or abstractly complicate. Some are even just straight up projectors. And what they have seen might have gratified or disturbed them quite a bit. I used to have many pairs of them in the past, but at the moment, due to the increased eye fatigue from everything I saw, I have not worn anything, I have just my own naked eyes which make everything kind of blurry due to the good-old myopia. Sometimes I even close my eyes, as many things aren't meant to be seen, and at the same time, there are many things I would prefer not to see. Then I'll open my eyes, and go about my days amongst the blurry things. This approach has served me quite well at the present.

Adulthood, isn't it nice?