25 / 03 / 01
Hi,
Happy Saturday.
Another week on the road. Compared to last week, I did sleep a little better, but I still feel completely off—like something’s just not right. Not physically, but a different kind of discomfort. Someone was smoking right outside the elevator, and the entire hallway reeked of smoke. My room was filled with it too. Lying in bed, I felt like I was being soaked in cigarette fumes. I lost my appetite. I don’t usually eat much carbs, but this week, I had no choice. I tried something new—Su Mao Soup—but it was way too salty. No idea if that’s just how it’s supposed to taste or if it was just that restaurant. Either way, for someone like me who prefers lighter flavors, this was definitely a one-time thing.
Business trips always make me feel temporary, like I’m living in a space I don’t belong in. It reminds me of my childhood, when we were constantly moving from one place to another. I still remember, after settling into what became our final home, I asked my dad, “Can I decorate my room now?” He said, “Better not. We might have to sell this place.” Maybe that’s where my minimalism comes from—years of training from always being ready to pack up and leave. That last move, I lost Abeibei. After that, there was nothing left that I couldn’t bear to lose.
It’s that time of year again—routine health check-ups. Last year’s report said I was perfectly healthy, but that was last year. To make sure this year’s results look just as good, I guess I’ll do some last-minute “cramming” for my health.
While reading Emotional Sensitivity and Intensity: How to Manage Intense Emotions as a Highly Sensitive Person, I came across the concept of dissociation. It made me wonder—when I try to block out emotions and sensations, is that dissociation? I’ve thought about it for a few days, and for now, my answer is: I just hate losing control. The kind of loss of control that some people willingly embrace? That, to me, is terrifying.
So, probably not dissociation. Dissociation is numbness. I am painfully clear-headed. I stare straight at the things that tear me apart, like the Great Rift Valley of East Africa.
Of course, I’m talking about books.
I need to slow down my reading speed. Chasing speed means losing details, and I want to read slowly, carefully.
In the Douban reviews of Every Sentence Holds Another Pair of Eyes, everyone sounds like a literary genius. I learned a new term—“literary rehabilitation.” Meanwhile, I can’t articulate anything beautiful. All I can do is shed honest tears.
By pure coincidence, after finishing that book, I opened The Ministry of Pain. Another book about nations, about language. The only thing I could think was—damn, what a masterful control of words. They made me feel the pain. Just like Miller said, “We fly in similar postures.”
We all meet things at the time we’re meant to. Even if I had read these books earlier, I might not have loved them as much.
I started rereading Ming Dynasty Stories this week. It’s been over ten years. The first time I read it was in e-book form, yet somehow, I remember it so clearly. Flipping through it now, everything feels so familiar, like I once memorized it. I guess I really used to read seriously as a kid.
Lately, I’ve been feeling this deeply: in Beijing, every ray of sunlight comes with a price tag.
Enjoy your weekend. I’m heading out to steal some sunshine.
End of this week’s update.
See you next week.