所谓大学生的标签。

    拎开水吃泡面的日子，无所顾忌的挥霍。推开寝室吱嘎作响的门，那一刹，发现舍友们开着电灯风扇就落荒而逃，我忽然就有了上述的感想。并非想要对比什么。我隐约忆起河北老乡们的神态。面对我们，亦即额外经济来源与外界讯息，他们高兴得并不完全。他们骄傲得并不完全。即使我们无法忍受艰难的生活，而他们这样活了一辈子，他们仍旧对我们怀有敬意，因为“西台我们还不曾登顶”。我们登顶了。这没有什么。但这份敬意也不完全。话说回来，除此之外，他们又能怎样？

    关于实习，很多人习惯用到“锻炼”这样的词汇。所谓锻炼，似乎只是将你所能够承受的极限提高了，仅此而已。依旧不过是忍受，就像某人高一时不断给我们灌输的那样。它未曾改变“忍受”的性质，未曾将忍受变作愉悦体验。

    若是能够，还是一辈子被宠着好。没人真正喜欢苦难。纵然无福消受也罢。

    离开时或许有兴奋，或许不过又一次追随大众做了同样的事情。于是酒精将一切变得不真实起来。爬过的山，走过的路，流过的汗，依然保持的地学人的肤色，似乎都不能将不真实全然变作真实。没有了向他人炫耀1200米高差的情绪。

    满眼弥漫的山峰和山峰上的云朵，经过这次实习，变成了构造运动与波状云。这是路上的事。师大也不真实起来。我不相信新街口的喧闹是我10天前走过的街。

    当然很快又相信了。10天，带来了什么，带走了什么。其实我不想发这样人云亦云的感慨。不过有时候，从众似乎也没啥不对。

    我原已想好，此事很能自比长吉，又或者三变，终究不过莫须有而已。行进之间也偶然思味，那份钝痛根本就存于《城堡》之中。尘埃终于落定，我却再一度几欲无言了。

    并非因为得到了与预期相反的结果。

    而是，无端猜疑，无须澄清，谣言自起自灭。我便听之任之，也自得一份乐趣。

    结果何曾重要来着？

    既然早已正信不疑。

“Little Miss Sunshine”. Guy watched already said laughed all the way. But is it a comedy? I put forward a query. Look at the introduction. Precisely, it writes that. Type: adventure/comedy/gut. I still can’t find a single line to prove that FACT, however.

Conflicts among family members, disapproval made no sorrow but hate. “I hate EVERYONE.” commented by the son. “Divorce, bankrupt, suicide, I hate you all. You’re all losers!” Pursuit for success but fail all the time. Little potatoes with no one caring for. Modern sickness in contemporary society. Self-lost in the woods made by concrete.

Still a lovely one with pure scenes and music, however. Not too much, but at right time. Not too much. The Beatles sang, life is a piece of cake, so take a little but not too much. What’s more, with sensitive tenderness hided inside and childhood we always missed.

Dwayne, the boy remained silent, and broke his promise when dream died. Crying to show disappointment, the adolescent stayed in this world for only 15 years found he was fooled. By himself instead of other family losers he hated. You’ll find it someday. No dreams, no promises there protecting you from adult world, no flags indicating your difference, nothing to fool yourself any longer. Only life goes on and on and on, you live through out it. That very thing you can do, is still the best thing on earth. “Sometimes I just wish I could go to sleep throughout 18, skip this damned high school and, just skip it.” That his words at first. But finally, he said, “You know what? Fuck beauty contest. Life is one beauty contest after another. You know school, like college, then work, fuck that. And fuck the Air Force Academy.” Oh, that means what? Fuck all our dreams. “IF I WANT TO FLY, I’LL FIND MY WAY TO FLY. DO WHAT YOU LOVE, AND FUCK THE REST.”

That is it.

I have a particular preference at the boy. Yup, he was strange looking, wanting to fight with the world that even didn’t notice his existence. Like me. Like us. I mean, like youngsters, the catcher in the rye. He made himself structured and disciplined, just desiring being off and gaining freedom. You may ask, what you would do with your freedom. And answer, I’ve no idea. What I know is I want that. So what’s freedom like? Maybe the time when I grow up.

No, no freedom. And yes, there’s no freedom before 18. But no, still no freedom after that. Again yes, you can have your freedom at any time. As long as you live on. And on.

Tortoise asked, once. What we will be without all the suffering youth.

Answer, freedom is not free. That is what we paid.

-Too much, and not too much, aha?

“Had I said that I am the #1 Proust Scholar in United State?” Every time pushing the car, Frank emphasize that. Both pretty and wise, yet nearly killing himself. When explaining how that happen to Olive, he had to answer the question”just for that you did?” throwed out by the little one continuously. No. Suicide, not for the loved one, not for breaking up, not for being out of work. Suicide is just suicide. Depression, yes. Yet not all about. Suicide is just like sleeping, or drinking, we do that ‘cause we have a desire. No why, no answers. Yet failed, as usual. So live on. Let’s go on, our pity, distressful life.

Every “-ism” is wrong, live our own life. If so, Confucius wrong, too. Confucius is right, though. For he lived HIS life.

I like stuff like that. Full of toughs, but keep keeping. Growing up into the sky without notice by others. Like trees. Maidou’s Stories. A house on the Mango Street. The catcher in the rye. And Confucius. For they came out from human nature. They blossomed and passed away. Like universe itself. Sticked to nature. Next to Paradise.

I said wanna share it with you. I don’t know why. I’d like to show you things like that. Maybe just for fun. Or I wanna repeat my sentence. You’re not judged by others. We are not. Let us grow. Let us fulfill, our life.