Test

Test. (Hi, there!)

I am still here, writing

I am still here, alive, and writing. I would like to post some news when they are definite.

This is what I do

I write

I write when I feel right.

I write to pin down the impossible.

I write to dig into nothing

I write because

this is what I do.

A rectangle

What I saw was an imaginably rectangle

The yellowish-orange rectangle was floating in my (again) imaginably computer screen.

The rectangle is about 14’ x 10, with carefully sandpapered corners; it would not hurt anybody to touch

When I read about your theory,
the rectangle gracefully stretched
as it still kept its core strength

That is when


my consciousness has pealed of its thin. translucent veil, which was quite beautiful
--it had been part of me…

No title

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Just wanted to say that...living is not so easy...if you wish to keep a certain aspects of you...something important and delicate...which is a silent screaming...as your mind pops out from the running water, gags for the air, and cries for help in vein...

And the water is so pure...so cold...and clean...and it is running right thorough you...and nobody notices what you've been through...

Nothing much to say...

I promised myself that I won't write here unless something within me urges me to write.

I empty my head...just be quiet for now.

Old comments deleted

I am fixing this weblog just a bit; nothing personal.

Things are happening

Nursing school, jobs, investment, and simply life stuff occupy my attention lately. But I am still writing what I really want to write about. I need a few more days until I feel like writing in English...

*How do you like this smaller font?



Picture: http://www.icelandicsheep.com

A missing piece for my (possible) journal article…

My “self” is looking for an answer: a missing piece for my (possible) journal article…

I know that 5-6 journal articles I read are well-written, and I respect these authors for their accomplishment; but they are missing something…Although this void is temporality stopping my writing the outline of this manuscript (still at the conceptual stage), I see that I am about to bump into an insight…

Writing keeps my feet on the ground

Yet my blogging continues...

I am still drafting my first academic paper, hopefully to be published...I wonder if it will ever finish...

One thing I am sure that my first paper would be satisfactory, whatever it means...

Satisfactory in a way I feel genuine about the process and (sometimes) the product...

Anyway...writing is one of my daily activities that I feel genuine...

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Ethics/ Obligations

I wonder if responsibility really limit people…
I would rather think that responsibility CONNECTs people…
a life in the existential vacuum connects with another…
confirm (if you are a believer) or construct (if you are agnostic/ atheist)
a meaning at a time…

A pounding life, a chip of life…one ship of the drink of…the origin?

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Medical ethics (cont’ed)

The following is my tentative thought.

Our (my) responsibility as human is big enough…big enough to let us decide on life…I am not sure that we are entitled or not, but not making decision about life could be unethical and not practical.

A sense of tiredness- Robert Murphy

"...there is another aspect of my fatigue that cannot be eased by rest. This is a sense of tiredness to withdrow from the world, to crawl into a hole and pull the lid over my head. " The Body Silent, Robert Murphy(1990, 1987)

Here is a line from my sociology textbook.

My Introduction to Psychology 16: C’est tout

My Introduction to Psychology 16: C’est tout

As soon as I say something, people say they don't get it...

I see the confusion, the dissonance in their eyes...a subtle discontent, which may lead their confusion and small panic....Good grief...You are just standing in front of a person who thinks differently— an alternative circuit of the brainchip … c’est tout.

picture: confusion - by marci featherstone

Just to tickle your electronica brain- Yoko Kano

Yoko Kano's soundtrack for

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex

http://jameswong.com/ykproject/disc/music.php

Her sounds and beats just tickle my mind a bit...

A Teenage Delivery-- a poem of a young physician

The night had just the sky embraced,
with stars that blushed like freckles.
Alone in bed, a girl in labor,
cried out in pain for her mother.
Nine months had passed that brought
her here, now cursed with a delivery.


The Examining Room of Dr. Charles
http://drcharles.blogspot.com/
Entry 7.5.05


A painfully beautiful... Do you remember...When you see something that itches
your heart...I am afraid that any of my words about this poem may hurt something delicate---
something fragile and small...

Think that I found my voice

Think that I found my voice

I believe that I found my authentic voice, in the English language...What I say makes sense to me; and I feel comfortable about my fragmented sentenses.

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Since last week, I am officially a nursing school student. I will take prerequisites in suburban Boston for one more semester. But I am officially enrolled in the school, and I will start the clinical from January 2006.