When the Dust Settles Down

What did the prof say about the Protestants’ view of eternity?

Oh, yes. It is the dove has to wear out our hard rock earth with its wings. Something like this.

I have forgotten the details.

Mm, I think with my wings, I have worn thin the stone, or the iron of someone’s existence.

The hurt initiated by the dog, which represented personal hatred, which later escalated into racial, cultural, spiritual, and gender hatred, has never really properly healed. Perhaps it never will, no matter what I do.

Is someone really able to dispense of all the social parameters, if only for a fleeting moment, and treat me on an equal footing?

If someone does not believe this situation, there is no other situation to present further convincing evidence. There are no more possibilities that one can ever hope to ask for.

Everything requires a miracle.

If it does not happen here, perhaps it will happen somewhere else. Maybe the only thing one can do now is to wait and see.

Do not prevent me. If I have opportunities and new developments arise, I can choose not to accept those opportunities. But if opportunities are blocked beforehand, I will never have the opportunity to prove alternative choices exist.

Yes, I want to prove alternative opportunities exist.

Let’s put aside the complicated performance aside for the current U.S. president. Before he was declared the winner, surely no one would ever expect the country was going to elect Senator Obama to be the new president.

Time makes heroes.

The American people only wanted results. They decided to throw away all the baggages linked with someone’s skin color, someone’s tenuous link with Muslims, someone’s show of young age which equalled to inexperience and incompetence in seeded politicians and statesmen’s eyes, someone’s background of not growing up with both parents, etc, etc, etc.

One thing I know about Americans is they are pragmatic. After everything is said and done, the one who brings some good results will be chosen. The one who brings some bad results will be thrown out. And those with fine rhetoric, whether good or bad, sincere or mostly insincere, do not show tangible results.

Let the facts speak.

So, let the facts speak. That is all I ask. No more, no less. No need to feel sorry or sorrow. I am saying good-bye to sorrow. I am particularly saying good-bye to Wang Anyi’s worry in Song of Everlasting Sorrow.

I am not doing what she has warned against in the novel so as not having to feel everlasting sorrow.

A powerful man travels around the world. His once beautiful mistress stays in an obscure small town living an obscure life with a boy (or a girl) with a little bit of money and no doctoral degree to become a professor.

The example is right in front of my eyes. I have no wish to “follow suit.” No matter how glorious or how tragic, as one Chinese writer declared, that is not what I am going to do.

I want a husband. I want my child. And I want my adequate professional position.

Don’t many think I have a right to reasonable personal happiness?

Or some ugly, vicious, conniving, spiteful, and hateful spinsters who finally got a shot at becoming a caged canary “deserves” a chance by stealing everything that belongs to me, including my identity?

A short while ago, she was still using the same strategy and asked somebody else to act as her mouthpiece to come in and beat me down. All I can say is I detect some not so subtle anxiety underneath. You know when others praise you with insincere intentions, you can always smell it.

I vanquished such strategies before. The hammers came down more forcefully before.

Why would anyone dispute the fact that I am accomplished, sophisticated, and well-mannered?  Oh, I believe I am not so ugly as to offend somebody’s eyes.

Someone is trying to examine me and my life with a magnifying glass. Somebody else even went to the extreme of putting some specks onto my white shirt when they did not find it. And of course they wore my clothes and went to places of ill-repute. I wonder whether I should present the evidence to the police.

I still have to make a trip to the bursar who informed me “I do not have a social security number” on file.

God Gracious! I had a social security number the first day  I started working in the United States. Has things changed without my knowing it?

I am tired of mysteries now. I want the dust and debris to settle down, for it is high time they settle down.


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