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标签:杂谈 |
最近闲来无事来这儿勤了。
秋天的味道越来越浓,昨晚温泉过后本以为会一直深睡到太阳升起,谁知早早醒来,透过落地窗看到外面晨练的同事,闻到湿湿的空气,重新爬上床去,闭眼到阳光照到脸上。
郊区的空气清新的很,阳光点点打到湖面上,透着淡淡的微光,贺着湖面片片荷叶,原来这就是大自然的怡然自得。
韩剧里人讲话总爱说“人生”,开始我还觉得韩国人肉麻,当刚刚这段我也想以“人生”开头的时候,忽然觉得或许这不是肉麻。人就是这样,总能为自己找各种借口原谅自己,而却纠结不能原谅别人。昨天下午在礼仪化妆间等候出场的时候,拿MP4看了会肯乃基《人性的弱点》,那些貌似很熟的话开始让我有了质疑,是不是大家都为之推崇的真的就是正确的?之后就让噼里啪啦的出场逃走了思绪。
不知道我这算不算无病呻吟,只是人闲的时候,脑子里总会冒出这样那样奇妙的想法,想让你记下来。
那天和同事聊学心理学的人,他们说学心理的人很可怕,那种透视的感觉会让周围的人很不舒服,我乐,太清楚也没啥意思了吧,人这么复杂,一下搞清楚估计会失去很多生活的乐趣,大家表示认同。恩,人的生活就是有这么多的不确定,才会让这么多前赴后继的人继续寻找生活。。。
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标签:杂谈 |
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标签:杂谈 |
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标签:杂谈 |
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标签:杂谈 |
或许等到N久以后重新回想这几年的日子,也会觉得仅仅如此而已。
上周想逃的心一直在涌动,不论在哪里,都做好了要离开这个城市的准备。霎那间对这个城市的陌生让我怯弱的想逃,只要能离开这里,去哪儿都可以。
于是,又如去年般失眠、做梦。
颠覆。曾经在一个留美的人写的回忆录里看到过这个词,她讲的是从中国到美国,人们的思想和价值观在经历着怎样的颠覆,有多少人能坚持自己,经过这场惊涛骇浪,而又有多少人分崩离析,无所适从。而我开始脑子里涌现的这个词,也是从去年开始。从未想过在这个离家仅仅只有不到四个小时的车程里,我还能感觉到“颠覆”,还是因为年龄增长让自己越来越关注自己的心?
从某个角度来看,现在的我是不够自信的。想想从前自己对工作,对感情的义无反顾,不禁感叹那个时候的坚韧。人,真的是随着成长在磨着棱角,社会就是一所历练的大学,而如果自己一个人就能做到的事情真的不是什么难的事。
很多时候发觉到自己的无能为力,就像曾经发生的这件事,哪怕有万千人为我抱不平,也还是不能改变什么。于是,大家劝我忍,而我最终没有选择离开只是希望自己能在这所历练的大学里能够向前迈出一步,因为社会就是这个样子,而逃避不是解决问题的办法。如果说去年8月感情的事情让我向成熟迈出了一步,那么今年的这个8月就是迈出的第二步。如果说去年在某种程度上我选择了逃避,那么今年绝对不可以。
昨天看到一篇访谈,忘了是哪位拿了国际最佳女主角说的话,她说,真实就是成熟。我无比认同。我的表达方式一直是直来直去,不喜欢绕圈,不喜欢复杂,希望生活能一直做减法,减掉那些不该存在的东西,让自己和身边的人轻松。这是我追求的,也是努力的方向。
人们都说世界上唯一不变的就是变。在我一向标榜自己不曾变化的时候,不经意的回头,发现自己原来已经背驰了曾经的某些风格越走越远,就像从高处拉到了地上,脚踏实地努力真实的表达着自己。
回过头来想想这件事情,在某种意义上,它是好事。它让我在马上27周岁的时候忽的一下明白了某些生存的道理,虽然不如古时胜败王寇那样明了,但是优存劣汰是社会的规律。这个社会不是例外!
天下万物,一物必降一物。而磁场效能,总是在相似之间发生,如果平和不怪乎关系,人生境遇就平坦了。。。
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标签:杂谈 |
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标签:杂谈 |
猛然想起这个句子,放在了qq的个人消息上。
昨晚去学琴,开始练曲子,听着自己弹奏出来的曲调,一下找到曾经在耳边萦绕很久的感觉,原来这就是古筝,悠远清脆。。。
人真的是有圈子的,关系,总是在这样那样的反复里转;勇气,总是在这样那样的情绪里不能释然。学校那条法国梧桐树的小路上,久违的斑驳的身影。。一切都还是在路上。。
听到一个远方朋友的消息,原来她的不愿放弃真的感动了老天,让她得到了想要的如愿以偿。我说,我欣赏她的勇气,为她高兴。她淡淡的,没有什么,只是因为固执。而远在海边的那个城市,同样在坚守的另一位,仍然不能放下。理智和情感的斗争,永远都是理智的人的死穴,去能做个感性的自己,也永远是理性的人需要一辈子去修的功课。
有个周末跑去了上海和杭州,很晚才做了决定,于是匆忙订了机票,去上海投奔朋友。飞机晚点,凌晨四点半,当我睡眼惺忪的站在上海浦东机场的出站口,有个出租车司机过来搭讪,我才突然意识到,才半会功夫我已经不在了北京。酒店睡了一个半小时,踏上前往杭州的动车。于是,在仅仅一天的时间里,北京-上海-杭州。。。周日晚上十二点,飞机落抵北京,推门见到同屋的那一霎那,才意识到实际上这对曾经的自己来说真的是件很有勇气的事情,虽然我曾经走过更远的路,去过更远的国度。
很想尝试一个人去旅行。想象着该如何面对周围的新奇,如何记录周围的变化。只不过,年龄的增长让我越来越明白了“责任”的含义,如果在某些情况下,我不能为自己负责,还是老老实实做好自己应该做的,免得身边的人体会痛苦。
又到一年放假的时候,上午和王同学聊天,我说,又过一年,竟然发现自己的心境还是那个样子,没有变化。她笑笑,说,我是有变化的,只是在反复。生活需要Move on, 就好象早上来上班,推开办公室的门,你要让自己带着微笑,,于是,还是让生活多做些减法,让自己的心境纯净一些,让生活简单一些,或许这才对得起你的身边希望你能幸福的人们。。。
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标签:杂谈 |
“经济学家”中的Michael Jackson
Michael
Jackson
Jul 2nd 2009
From The Economist print edition
Michael Jackson, pop star, died on June 25th, aged 50
FIRST, the songs. The light, infectious lilt of “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough”. The sheer, vicious swoop of“Speed Demon”. The soft, syncopated sadness of “Billie Jean”, or the raucous shouts of “Bad”. His high,pure tenor was shot through with the little yips and sighs he had learnt from Diana Ross. And behind itlay the astonishing confidence of child-star Michael in “I’ll Be There” or “Rockin’ Robin”, with each note treble-true and each time-change as natural as taking breath.
Next, the dancing, springing from the music like a bird out of a
trap. Pointing, jerking, thrusting, with rage in his feet, as Fred
Astaire said once. He was at war with the floor as it slid away in
the Moonwalk,and with the air as he spun through it. He danced with
his knees, on tiptoe, hunching his shoulders to his
ears. His splayed hand pulled at his crotch as if emasculation
would be sweet to him.
The show was everything. Lights made a giant of him as he stood
motionless: one white, glittering,gloved hand raised, fedora pulled
down at a slant. Under the tight, too-short trousers, sequinned
socks(“No one would recognise Bruce Springsteen by his socks”). On
stage he felt truly alive, invincible,“unlimited”. He would appear
in explosions of smoke and fire, or fly away like an astronaut. On
his videos he was a leader of crowds, prowling the city in
“Thriller” (1983) in an outfit red as blood. P.T. Barnum was his
model, crossed with Walt Disney. He wanted his life to be “the
greatest show on earth”. And so,
for much of the 1980s and 1990s, it was, with “Thriller” the
biggest-selling album ever, eight Grammys in 1983, his dark, lavish
videos a staple of the fledgling MTV channel and his place as the
King of Pop assured.
In Neverland
What lay behind it? He told his biographer, Randy Taraborrelli,
that he had “deep, dark secrets”. They were encased in a voice as
soft as a whisper, a handshake that felt like a cloud, a face as
pale and delicate as plastic surgery and Porcelana skin-bleach
could make it. Dark glasses and surgical masks kept the world away
from him. On his estate at Neverland in southern California, remote
from the “normal people” who might grab and scratch him, he lived
like a child with blank-eyed mannequins, pet snakes and Ferris
wheels. He shared his meals with a chimpanzee and his bed with
young boys, “the most loving thing to do”. People spread rumours
about him, even twice accused him of sexual abuse, but he was never
proved guilty of anything: except love, and desire for lost
childhood, and a longing to be Peter Pan.
But that too was a show. Behind it was a man who could not bear to
hear that Elvis still surpassed him, or that Madonna had won a
Grammy when he hadn’t. He could force hard deals and millions of
dollars out of Motown, CBS and Sony in face-to-face confrontations;
he could fire his manager and his lawyer,after years of service,
without a trace of sentiment, for letting down the brand; he could
beat Paul McCartney to the Beatles’ back catalogue and exploit it
ruthlessly, despite their friendship. He performed for 18 years
with his four elder brothers in the Jackson 5, the bouncing,
grinning child from Gary, Indiana transforming into a global
megastar, then left them as brutally as he had always upstaged
them. But the
family never left him. He blanked Joseph Jackson from his life and
excised him from his face, but could not forget his father’s
exhortation to be “a winner, not a loser”. Perfectionism, like
distrust, had been beaten into him.
What show business required, he had also learnt, was to give the
fans what they wanted. If they demanded fantasies, he would provide
them. (“The longer it takes them to discover [who I am], the more
famous I will be.”) From the end of the 1980s he devised ever more
headline-grabbing ventures: bidding for the bones of the Elephant
Man, sleeping in an oxygen chamber, appearing in toyshops and
galleries in garish wigs and moustaches. Dates were arranged with
Tatum O’Neal and Brooke Shields to prove he was all man, rather
than the shrinking virgin of his other public self. Two marriages
were undertaken, three children vicariously produced.
Oddness overshadowed his real, hard-won achievements: world
adulation for a black pop star, the birth of video celebrity, and
millions of dollars given to black causes. If the press stayed on
his weird story, he believed, his records would sell. The risk was
that the weirdness would multiply until he was hardly human.
His last public appearance, before his death of apparent cardiac
arrest, was to announce a series of 50 sold-out concerts in London.
Hours before his death he was rehearsing for them, exuding joy,
energy and sharp judgment. His glitter jackets, the tabloids
claimed later, hid a body that was half-starved, subsisting on
painkillers. Though he was worth $1.3 billion, said the Sun, he
died with debts of $300m.
But he had sold 750m albums and, from Riga to Rio, children danced
like him. In the words of his “Dirty Diana”,
That’s OK
Hey baby do what you want
I’ll be your night lovin’ thing
I’ll be the freak you can taunt
And I don’t care what you say
I want to go too far
I’ll be your everything
If you make me a star
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标签:杂谈 |
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标签:杂谈 |
---草于午后饭歇