in whose hands?

Oi you with the highbrow questions the serious addressing of which would be utterly at odds with the tenor of this page: how else am I to fob you off if not with a lukewarm diatribe against some illustory obstacle in my way to Total Satisfaction with Everything.

Of course my life is in my hands. Absolutely. At least I need to believe as much. It is not easy to reconcile the fatalistic and opportunistic sides of me; but whenever I contemplate the alternatives to taking things into my own hands, those are even less comforting.

However, this being-in-control-of-one's-own-destiny thing, which no doubt in most parts of the world is a tremendous privilege enjoyed by few, I'm afraid is quite wasted on me. Frankly I find it all a bit overrated. I've always been content with being someone's someone - daughter, friend, sister (no "..." at the end: these three are the only ones that matter). Obviously, I constantly wonder whether my sense of self is so bound up with people's perceptions of me that I have no independent identity to speak of. But really, yes or no, it makes little difference. That is how I relate to the world, and I neither can nor wish to change it.

I can see how this might lead to the conclusion that I simply don't know what I want and am therefore living for others. Which wouldn't be entirely wrong, but wouldn't be the entire picture either. I know what I want as much (or little) as the next person. Some things I want for myself a, some for people in my life b, and some for both in varying proportions c. I don't distinguish between these as I go about my day, trying to make this or that happen. Because if I only get to have things my way a fixed percentage of the time, I don't much mind the a:b:c breakdown. Although, experience shows that a's consistently underperform - hence the misleading inference that I systematically neglect these.

There's also the difficulty of identifying whose life it is that's in my hands. I'll be the first to admit to being a Meddler. What's that adage that's been selfishly appropriated by AA... Grant me serenity to accept the things I can't change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Yeah hook me up with some o' that.

pick-a-boo

When some weeks ago I undertook to describe for my audience (all 3 or 4 of you) a selection of behavioural aberrations which aggravate me, I knew it was going to be a trying task. Not because I Love Everything About Everyone All Of The Time; rather, because I am generally too oblivious to the finer points of human intercourse to discern even the most offence-takeable conduct. I ended up having even more trouble than anticipated, not least for the realisation that I exhibit many of the very traits which I find undesirable in others. But I am not one to shirk from procrastinatory pontification, so here goes.

Laziness, the Root of All Evils. I'm not talking about the habitual sleepers-in, serial mess-leavers, those with below-average attentiveness to personal hygiene, or fans of inactivity allsorts - we're only human. Laziness of mind, by contrast, is less excusable. Dramatic reductions in ignorance, cruelty, conflict, isolation, shrink's bills, reality TV [to name just a few of the world's evils] would be achieved if more people:
- didn't confuse regurgitating what they choose to hear with intellectual discourse;
- read and wrote for fun;
- made time for one another;
- communicated through listening more than speaking;
- asked questions instead of trying to answer them;
- ...

Saying one thing to someone's face and another behind their back. Little White Lies lubricate, and as such are indispensable in any superfical setting. But with People In Your Life, be generous with your praise and frank with your criticism, is all I'm sayin'. Don't kid yourself: if you've thought it, it can't be better left unsaid.

"That's a little personal, don't ya think?" Maybe I have problems with Boundaries. Maybe I hear this line more often than the national average. Nevertheless. How am I to interact with a person without getting personal? Every crossing of paths is the culmination of incomprehensibly tremendous cosmic forces, why fight it?

soundscape

For a compulsive blog-hopper: 10 songs with stories, in no particular order.

橄榄树 * 齐豫 [olive tree * Chyi Yu]

不要问我从哪里来 我的故乡在远方 ask me not whence I came - my home is afar
为什么流浪 流浪远方 流浪 or wherefore I roam, roam afar, roam -
为了天空飞翔的小鸟 for the birds in the sky
为了山间轻流的小溪 for the brooks in the valleys
为了宽阔的草原 for wide open prairies
流浪远方 流浪 - roam afar, roam
还有 还有 and, and -
为了梦中的橄榄树 橄榄树 for the olive tree in my dreams, olive tree
不要问我从哪里来 我的故乡在远方 ask me not whence I came - my home is afar

Clearly, a crowd-pleaser among migrants, fugitives, hippies, and the like. One of mum's faves too. As I get older I've come to discern a higher significance of this song to the ever-declining number of people who know it: we dream in song what we mostly do not in life, namely, run far far away.

you owe me nothing in return * Alanis Morissette For a long time I took this song literally - to be about unconditional love, the only kind of love that there really is - and was fond. Then I stumbled upon an interpretation (not sure whether Alanis') of it being 'an interesting perspective on obsession', which ruined it for me somewhat. The song continues to encapsulate much of what I (try to) live by, but I can no longer hear it in blissful ignorance of my unhealthy disposition.

let down * Radiohead A track off the CD currently playing on loop in my car. Fascinatingly dichotomous: such upbeat melody, such morose lyrics. let down and hanging around / crushed like a bug in the ground Well, morose only if taken literally. I prefer to think that it's about freeing oneself of expectations, which is the ultimate Catharsis. and one day I am going to grow wings

美错 * 王菲 [beautiful mistake * Faye Wong]

不是来得太快 either it comes too soon
就是来得太迟 or it comes too late
美丽的错误往往最接近真实 often closest to the real thing, is a beautiful mistake

A delicate ballad of a rare un-trashy variety, about being gentle yet daring, generous yet stubborn, when it comes to Love. About loss and bad timing. Features a swimming pool and a meteorite. One of very few Faye songs that I can sing not totally disastrously.

the scientist * Coldplay I call this my 'coming out song'. It was on radio a lot That Year, and got to me bad every single time. I remember pulling over, or stopping whatever else I happened to be doing, so as not to risk a major fuck-up. To this day I can't listen to it with an unclenched heart. What it did was, it helped me to believe not only that I could do This - being honest and bold - but also that I had to. nobody said it was easy

啤酒泡泡 * 小刚 [beer foam * Steve Chow] (Not to be confused with Stephen Chow.) Also during That Year, the smallest/randomest things made me pine for That Girl. This song speaks to just such fixations, and thereby vented a little of my frustration. 思念没有味道 像那啤酒泡泡 longing, bland like beer foam

盛夏的果实 * 莫文蔚 [midsummer fruit * Karen Mok]

也许放弃 才能靠近你 perhaps I must give up, to get closer to you

不再见你 你才会把我记起 must stop seeing you, to be remembered by you

时间累积 这盛夏的果实 time accumulates this midsummer fruit

回忆里寂寞的香气 in our memory the scent of loneliness

我要试着离开你 不要再想你 I must try to leave you, to think of you no more

虽然这并不是我本意 though it isn't my intention

(Karen, can you be any hotter.) A break-up song for the Decidedly Hung-Up, but special to me for an entirely unrelated reason. I used to sing to N lots (until she discovered TV etc). Out of my small repertoire of suitable-for-lullabying material she had her faves, this being one of them. I kid you not at one point, before she spoke phrases let alone sentences, she could sing along word-perfect.

without you * Mariah Carey A must-do at every karaoke session with Bro, despite neither of us being able to hit the high end of the chorus. I don't have anyone in mind as I sing this (gladly more than sadly), but I know he does, and it breaks my heart.

do what you have to do * Sarah McLachlan The trouble with trying to tell someone something using a song, is that thereafter that something, that someone and that song will be forever messily entwined. If your plan blows up in your face, you can expect to be hit with the weight of your mistake every time you hear that song. Take it from one who has so erred many times over, albeit in respect of only one person.

我 * 张国荣 [I * Leslie Cheung ] (I love Leslie as much as I'll ever love a man, dead and queer be he...) One for all Outcasts (which, if read as confined to homos, would be doing the song gross injustice). Anyone who's ever not fit in somewhere, and who felt proud of it, would enjoy belting this one out. 我就是我 是颜色不一样的烟火 I am what I am, fireworks of a different colour