chinesepiggy's Xanga

心情随笔�px?user=chinesepiggy

Sat, 27 Oct 2007 15:24:08 GMT

心情随笔�px?user=chinesepiggy

Memories

Thu, 21 Dec 2006 02:45:23 GMT

蔚藍的海~細細的沙~灰黃的月~淡淡的香~

遙遠的城市~緩緩的腳步~反向的你我他

Tragic Goddess Ruan Ling Yu

Fri, 20 Oct 2006 23:03:38 GMT

Coy beauty

Fri, 20 Oct 2006 22:59:48 GMT

Lately have come across reading the bibliographical epic of the 1930s Shanghai starlet Ruan Ling Yu and her story deeply touched me. Daughter of a widowed servant to a wealthy merchant family, Ruan spent her childhood helping her mother with household servitude tasks. Despite their meager economic condition, her mother managed to send Ruan to the local parochial school, where Ruan studied English and ballet. At the tender age of sixteen, under the ardent pursuit of her household master - the youngest of the four heirs in the Zhang household -Ruan fell in love. Consummate with love, the young couple disregarded the Zhang family disapproval and moved out. Little did Ruan know that in the years to come Zhang would gamble away not only his interitance but also her hard earned money. During their six-year-relationship, he never once made a financial contribution to the family. His addiction for alchohol and gambling worses over the years. Eventually Ruan left Zhang only to fall in love once again under the seduction of a wealthy tea merchant who trifled with her heart. He subjected her to physical abuse before courting another young starlet. Ruan’s third lover was a well-known film director who may have loved Ruan but never stood up to publicize their relationship, for he did not feel that Ruan had been well-reputed. In despair, Ruan suicided at the mere age of 25.

I've always been drawn to tragic love tales, for they remind me of my own experiences but in a dramatized and sentimentalized fashion. It is often the stories of unrequited love that most clearly depict a woman's heart; such love represents its existence at its purest form. Pain exists with a tinge of semi-sweet bitterness because you know that neither of you are at fault. The mere intensity of your feelings leave you helpless and all that is left is your desire to give. I admire her grace. She has porcelin doll-like skin, a slender figurine, and a dimpled smile. She is the epitome of Oriental beauty.

Cambridge Goodbye

Mon, 31 Jul 2006 20:00:43 GMT

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Lovely Afternoon

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 20:12:35 GMT

Neverland

Sun, 18 Jun 2006 01:38:29 GMT

Finally after all the exam craze I could actually sit back and enjoy a film, but must less so than that of the extent of which I expected, simply because I haven't yet acquired real freedom. Just finishing up the final scene from Finding Neverland, a bittersweet film, and I've started to question my uncensored attachment to my own Neverland. My reluctance to let go is coming to terms with an exigency to wake up in the face of reality. From personal experience, I’ve discovered that those who are, in reality, the most worldly, often feign the appearance of a living quixotic life. Sometimes I think they vent their banal worldliness with the their fantasy, and even indulge superficially in those fantasies, but they yield to bread and butter when it comes down to every actual decision to be made no matter how minute. How hypocritical, and yet how pragmatic. It’s not that I refuse to grow up and accept the reality, but rather that I sometimes just internalize my fantasies until they are no longer discernable from reality. I'm sorry dear world, but sometimes I'm a loser in the fight against time, I'm James Barrier but not half as successful, I'm Peter, and whose mother left despite the play. I'm not ready to grow up; I am still residing in my own protected cubicle of unfledged fantasy. Dear world, mind if I question, how others live with this inevitable passage of time?

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Wed, 22 Mar 2006 08:03:42 GMT

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