自強之路

日前，應林博士俊榮兄之邀請，赴曼哈頓遊賞，一覽美漫風情，該城人文薈萃、興盛繁旺；而能傲瞰世界都會，實有所恃，當之無愧也。強盛若此為何？茲以下三方面縱橫觀察；心得有感，兼賦三韻：

一、 人民勞動勤奮，充實康健：

快劬熙嚷日勞形，
走奔東西飛鐵馬；

求學計畫書

 一、本人學習翻譯的目的，乃望日後具備高度專業英語水平，得以從事以下至少一項之社會服務： 

1. 業界工商口譯：工商業務出口行銷、外商產品解說及推廣、即時會議溝通、國外參展導覽。 

Should there be a Dr. Manhattan, he would command fairly nicely at least over the following three catagories: 1. corporal toughness, 2. manifold adeptness and erudition, and, most importantly, 3. explicit calling.

Would I like to be Dr. Manhattan, I would very much like to be the integrator complaxia inclusive of a handful of Kanezawa Hiroichi, Iho Kyotsuku in terms of the first, some small sips from Pete Sapadin, Ernie Els, Alexander Weissenberg, Emmanuel Kant, James Joyce, Ellen White, Lev Tolstoi, eight lions during Tang-song period to the second, and, lastly but the most magnificently, an understandable but deeply-hidden, then self-aroused, spontaneous willness to the mandatory, compulsory, and glorious mission for Him, which is the manifest of salvation worldwide in the near future, rather eminent.

I'm a poor sinner, nothing at all,
But Jesus Christ is my all in all.

You may have recalled the old story of Jack, a travelling salesman used to sing this. Those who knew him wereastonished at his constant composure. People around him at his time had a world of doubts and fears for his time was so tough and hard though, and tursting God might be the last thing for a vagabond to associate with a satisfactory meal. They asked Jack why he never doubted.

Jack said he had never doubted he was a sinner and nothing at all. Since he was totally a sinner, why could he, he thought, and should he have refused Jesus as his Savour for every evidence was so clear. Or, what else left could he have done with this situation? Jack said he would never be ups and downs. He could not be ups for he was a poor sinner from tip to toe. Neither could he be downs for he was saved by Jesus. Why sould he feel happy for he was a poor sinner? And why should he ever feel down for Jesus has already saved his soul and promise him to meet him in Heaven?

Name: Valkyrie  

Creator: Robert Chiu

Category: Card game

Player: 3 to 4 persons

Instructions: In a four-person game, for example, each player will be dealt 13 cards after well shuffled and cut by one player specified by the dealer. One who owns spade 7 initiates ‘the operation Valkyrie’: The initial player can lead the cards in the hand to outvalue others. One who has greater value or points, by show-hand rules, collect the cards led and followed. And the player who collects the most cards during each round wins the game. Also, the leading player of each round can decide, according to the cards distributed in the hand within a brief value condition estimation, the value of card ranking, that is, alternatively speaking, Ace and 2 can both be the first ranking at each round. When Ace is first, the order of value will be: A, K, Q, J, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, and vice versa if 2 is the boss. Besides, the leading player will have five ways as followed to conduct the round; one can lead:

1. a single card 
2. a pair, any two with identical card number, like 10+10
3. a triplet, any three of a kind, like 777, AAA, etc.

Orientation to humans is exact a sickle to a harvest. Why do we use a sickle if there is no need of reaping? How come things and events emerge since we don't push ourselves toward them? Will you pick up a spoon as writing a letter? Ironically enough, some people can still live up not bothering to inquire where they came from. Pitifully enough, others have to live in struggle searching for the purpose for their survival. I was one of the formers for the first 18 years yet have been the latter since then, till now. Fk such vexing enigmas, and fk myself being a hopeless dooda dummy, too dense to fly over the perplexing maze of materials and vanities.

Fortunately, after experiencing said both risers of typical fleshy episodes for most hominids. I found a model of orientation, a logical procedure, which helps locate the most appropriate domicile  of an individual and provides cogent coherence of motivation, devotion, and caliber, striking a balance in between and meeting the request of the One Who built us. I name it 7-W as follows:

Where from and where to is an individual after birth? Who creates or enables such individual in order to make it a representation amid certain territorially-specific culture? Why is everything pertaining to potential to thrive, to exist, or to produce? What does such individual bear to sustain one's own or others' existence? Which means is the most simple, efficient, advantageous, and beneficial to maintain such thriving according to one's propensity and temperament? How does an individual cultivate such means within oneself through cognitive perception and interaction in a limited community? When should such individual be aware of whether the utilities of such means are at right moments in a specific environment?

To me, this week was a math week, when three of my cousins, two from Megoya, one from Taipei, rushed to my house with bundles of unfinished math drillings and exam practicing sheets about the areas of sectors, trapezoids, rhombuses, and some other fundamentals of circumference radio, rates, and proportions at the level of a fifth to sixth grader’s. Their parents were vexed about their poor performances in primary school math and thus anxious their academic competence for the next coming semester, not to mention the formidable algebra and geometry in junior high. By the grand New Year’s holiday session these days, they asked me for some catholicons for such mathphobia.

I took this request light-heartedly on one hand that I have had an affair with math since long, wherein the world of dialect amid deduction and induction is the key to the universe, lurking patiently, staid and dormant, to wait for some curious British boy culling shells around the reef of numerals to look up smirkingly the splendid, majestic, dazzling starry night sky. I could on the other hand brush up my rusty Japanese by chatting about with the two young kids to upgrade some fashionable usages and jargons modern Japanese now are applying. Besides, I just wanted to break the myth that it is only for mathmaticians and engineers to use math as a tool to daily needs. I would like to show them, at least to my uncles and aunts along with my naïve cousins, that math is one of the most facile, amiable, vernacular, and clear-cut languages I’ve ever experienced to intimate nicely the infinite and magnificent world to humans.

Another new year's coming, another chance for recalling, recalling the misrecoveries, malideology, and malign unruliness in the past year, if plus what I couldn't but refraining myself from digging out in the old inventories during the past 41 years, it'll be then another jolly spree for repenting. Repenting? Yuck! Will that be too late to do this? You may inquire me so, but what else should I do save that?

Plenty of phrases are reminiscent of my intrinsic temperament where I could easily sieve exactly feces you can see in a cesspool, full of filthy schemes, feculent lust, tainted emotions, and risque low tastes. How many pences left on earth should I have to pay back, Father? Or for how long should I have to tolerate such ambience without paying any regret? Or is this the mysterious groove that every one should be fallen on? Or to retrieve the antithesis to oppose to the weakness is the main subject in the main course of life journey? Once you're off the siding, you'll need Thomas the Engine to pull you back here. We are all in want of this cute locomotive. Or maybe Thomas the Engine has long been pulled over quietly in our minds, standing by at our service anytime, yet we haven't uttered a call.

What is being afraid? It is an old feeling of sensational perception, which blended itself with other emotions to stay with us amid daily errands to be taken care of. It is a feeling of utmost repugnance, intense dislike, and deep agitation to evade danger instinctively, or some emotional warning to refrain from doing something malign to the grand purpose of living. Maybe it is the mirror symmetry of being peaceful. As far as human history and any civilization of any culture is concerned, it seems apparently that neither groups nor individuals manage to devise mechanism to survive without getting rid of such feeling, like the Devil. The feeling that the whole world pushes her elbow against still remains, no matter how hard we give it a push, how fast we try to turn around and flee away from it. It haunts within us in a dormant way and creeps out to devour us off once we forget to watch out the padlock hung on its cage. We live to against it, or to be more precisely, we live subject to it. Some even become slaves of it and never dare to claim their justice over liberation that they deserve.

But what are we afraid of exactly? Death? Afterlife, or, to be more candid, Afterdeath? Laid off? Hunger? Obesity? Unsecureness? Loneliness? Quarrels? Fights? Isolation? Nowhere to reside? Or even a few tiny freckles? Why do we dislike these, say, phenomenon happening around us every day? That has been an interesting issue to ponder since human activities were initiated. I believe the perception of fear or even the conception of such feeling is rooted in our brains, installed as a part of our ‘talents’ to experience the world, and we are born to beware to regard it as hateful and nasty. It is well considered as contradiction to survival. I would rather say it is considered as contradiction to our concept of beauty, the instinct to pursue the perfect state of being beautiful.

Edgar Allan Poe once divided human brains into three obvious distinctions: pure intellect, taste, and moral sense, where taste is the recognition to distinguish beauty from ugliness; pure intellect organizes the rules and logic to build the formula to apply to make such distinguishment, while moral senses are the results or outputs of contemplation and interaction of said other two. Beauty is divine, something in distance we still are unable to attain, something we desire like the moth to the candle light, something with mere which we could quench our endless thirst, yet we humans failed to defend her title, her crystal spring-like perennial existence, too weak to justify beauty in the fight against ugliness, the sins. ‘It is no mere appreciation of beauty before us,’ said Allan Poe, ‘but a wild effort reach the beauty above by an ecstatic prescience of the glories beyond the grave, by multiform combinations among the things and thoughts of time to attain the portion of that loveliness whose very elements perhaps appertain to eternity alone.’ That is to say that we are, during our whole lives, making so hard an effort to acquire the beauty, and that’s why we humans are IMMORTAL to other animals and MORTAL just because of our unapproachability to beauty. We are born to be immortal to prove us to be mortal during a process of pursuing beauty in, which is also one of the saddest parts, our limited lifetime. Is it a tragic event to be revealed as an ironic piece of joke?

璽過藏經閣，嘗撫卷太息曰：『伏臘二十，順惑立志；日就月將，惟道集虛。』

1. 理論基礎 --- 落霞孤鶩，秋水長天

Twenty years ago, the typical response by the book when someone especially not my cup of tea had ever had bickered with me over some trivials would be simply deduced as my permanent impassiveness to them, totally imperturbable and inflappable, who would be condign to receive my countless elbows, as well as from my clique's. In addition, the condemned would never be granted any compassion and forgiveness for good, in whichever aspect they could conceive of, or in whatever manner they pleaded for themselves with a second chance to mutual pacification. The salient emergence of the synonym of forgiveness would resemble minute twinkling in an indigo lune only to astound realizing that they, the fellow primate, were nothing but to me the most execrative scumbags.

Twenty hours ago, some foolish wayward stonewall was reminiscent of my ruth-vacuumed dictature. Thanks to the halo of my redemption that apparently buffered my vehemence through His omnipotent corona, recently this arrogant areolaphile getting my nerve once again with his pathetique and presumptuous schmooze, was relatively and favorably bestowed sensational amnesty, and of course, once again. I would have lashed back relentlessly but for the words in James 1:19 reminding of an unselfish tolerance and perpetuating understanding. At most, what I could manage my utmost to emulate my life-time role model for the time being with regard to that dialoguely-retarded is to keep silent toward his appearance, which is exactly as his alias, Stupid Pompous, unless the jerk came to me for his confession and the most humble contrite remorse ever.

This Sunday, my family and I went to Costco to replenish our daily staple storage. At the book section, I found three good books recommendable for Japanese learning: One is a Japanese-Chinese dictionary, but in a more concise way, namely, with only word forms, and usage examples, which are very helpful for beginners who won't bother to memorize the complicated Japanese idioms, unnecessary difficult 'bungo' (Japanese ancient terms) and fine nuance from masculine modes to female ones confined within only 10,000 entries, catagorized into 4 sections from level 4 to level 1 according to the coming Japanese proficiency test (JPT), very practical and simple.

Another is a brief introduction to everyday useful words in Japan. What very incredible is that the author generates a simple idea to help 'shyushinshya' (beginners) to learn mastering 3000 words for everyday use ONLY if they know how to pronounce the basic 'gojyuon' (the 50 phonetic Japanese characters). Any one who reads the phonetics gets to know the 3000 words, with which he can own a brief grasp over daily Japanese conversation as well as pass easily the JPT Level 4.

這一題不是數學。目前我仍找不到答案，幫幫我吧。

After I conceived a subjective, objective, forensic, retaliatory, but never original issue about the interaction, or, let me put it STRAIGHT, manners between a man and his woman with all my recollections, meditaions, recognition of females, inductive perceptions, and deductive patterns of gender dysphoria, amassed plus carefully integrated to the accumulations of the past three years' realization of theological connaissance, I would rather depict thethe very initial yet prennial incentive of my portrayal I've long been hereto acting as, the reason, its theoretical logic basis as well as its citations to be one of the most consequential memorabilia as proof to the obligation and compulsory acquistion over female conpliance, where the subordinated, the assistant, the aide, the consultant, and the servers should be aware of how their rights, welfare, and responsibility are supposed to be arranged and alloted by their masters, the dominant, the preeminent oracle- franchised, to whom the pathetique feminists are ought to offer awe, at each spur of moment of human civilization, whichever senario of all epochs, and for good thanks to the indisputable codes and axioms of commandments as followed:

And the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.  Ge 2:18

As I sat wondering how and when my clique would be engaged together at midnight today, the blatant buzzer bluffed off, which always gave me a thrill. Judging from the way it went off, I wager it must be from a mail carrier, who brought mostly nothing more than some credit card notice or the embarrassing ultimatum of due date of my insurance payment. The last thing I would expect from a postman was a surprise, even a trivial one. Yes, here he was, passing me a B4- sized package, smilingly but quite disingenuously, seeming that something bad would knock on everyone's door sooner or later, or at least it would be he that was given carte blanche to be a damned black angel, and he was rather amused within the rejoice over other's calamity. Sht, I hate postmen, who brought me no more than bad news as my failure notice in various exams recently.

Thickly printed, I fingered through the margin of this package, light green in color and well sealed, quite a load, stamped address as Ban- chiao Post Office. 'Bu-shi-ban?' I thought to myself. Perhaps. 'A friend of mine?' Likely, and he knew my quarter exactly. 'Some mandatory document from the government to prove me to be defrauding  the revenue unless I got a presidential pardon?' Rare but still possible. 'An ex-girlfriend's souvenir of indigenous snacks in Deutschland?' Hopefully not, or it would be another dominating temptation to invite me for the carnal world once again, with bounty of gratuitous vouchers and rebates! It is really a matter of being a voluptuary or a decent Stoic. I needed to end my suspense at once, binge or bristling.

Unpacking it, I found it had an inner layer. The sender would either carefully protect the object or want to provoke my desperate curiosity. (Maybe the guy knows me well.) This time it could be more confirmative to be a pamphlet, maybe a book. Tearing off the layer, I saw an edge emerged, a book, no, two books, brand new, a gift, a surprise! Beaming with delight, I was looking forward to and enjoyed the outcome I dug further into. I dare not say that I'm a bibliophile, yet, strangely though, I do have love affairs with books. I have a passion for books. Old books are like experts, ready to conduct  an impressive lecture I was eager to acquire. However, new books are something else. They are like virgins, pure and naive, like a cute, pretty, and attractive ingenue who can always awake my vigorous potence, waiting quietly and gracefully for my exploring, regardless of my covetously devouring and slurping her, again and again...

Two chicks this time, their names? I don't know yet. Tiffany? Toffany? Or TOEFL? I will tell you later after I probe them for myself. But anyway, tasty is the word I can guarantee you in advance. And the pimp? Well, he will be showing up at McDonald's or the round table tonight, one of our cliques, also easy to find with just a simple click into my pal list to see what a clique looks like.

Lately, when Todd May, a professor of philosophy in Clemson University, flew to New York to visit his dying step-grandma, on aboard the plane made an abrupt ascending as landing in La Guardia due to a careless commuter plane landing without taking into account the clearness of the air trip and air space of other planes, which aroused an aura of 911 where the whole crew in the plane seemed as if they had been a human missile again.

This made the professor revisit his life and the meaning of death when the aircraft brushed above so closely the antenna of the Empire State Building. He began to ponder why he had fear at that moment, and why he suddenly bewared that life was so precious. He had then a vivid and strong desire and motive to survive the eminent misfortune. And he realized that we humans had so little control over lifespans and future. He smelled the prepared sneak attack ofdeath.

It's been a long while since we guys disscussed about how to get more slender, only to witness each project aborted. What a pity is this especially to see it sometimes got almost done. And we just never enjoyed a spree for what we were supposed to reach cause we didn't even take any effective initial. You might heard so many terms such as TransXXXXX, RPXX,... and so on. They all turned out to be in vain eventually, defeated by the mighty army of 'Gastralia', say, for at least 19 times, defeated by its irresistable charm and lure, its mind-inducing calling, as well as its convincing eloquence to make you splurge credibility for what on earth does you good: Is Stoic our life-time pal? Or maybe we could call on Epicurus from time to time? We always seem to teeter between dive and chic, having no idea whether iberico ham or a 'shot' of coke should be the right chaser after slurpy burger combos. Sigh, for how long do we have to suffer under such agony of ambivalence?

This time I spot with delight two motivs, strong enough to make said terms not epithets any more as they usually were. I have two friends of Fat Bob Classics. John, a nice guy, needs to practice through a slender program to see himself through, to help find his calling, and then to be put to right position our Father has long been looking forward to. Without being slender, John would be very likely to stay stagnant, impassive, as a listless sleeping lion wandering aimlessly in his infinite doldrums. Paul is the other but in totally different case to be slender desperately. It is high time for him to show off his abundant stamina for both of his venery with his immaculate infatuation and his enterprise-to-be as Motor GP pit service.

Recently I was upset about my girlfriend for her lousy reaction to my words, which seemingly indicated that there was absolutely no consensus between us, along with her stubborn tantrum, through which I wondered if I could bear such an embarrassing situation for how long. I thought I was the very guy who had the least luck to get days by. Not like others, having wonderful flirting with their loving mates, living sans suci, and a lot of leisure time, which is to me the most precious of all. I couldn't help but ask the Lord whether it should be a test or training He's supposed to teach me as a recruit and grill Him bitterly how long I had to endure so many hurdles ahead since I was in no case Byron Johnson or some other big shot like this.

The answer was negative. The Lord asked me not, neither to compensate what I had rudely done, as well as miserably, for the past days, nor to rebuke me for how unredeemable I was as a totally loser and sinner. He taught me math instead. Math? Yep. Believe me. He just did nothing but to bid me, smilingly, to count what I had and have: was I born in this wonderful world but for His permit? How could I make such a lot of fortune without getting into big touble and losing my soul regardless of His dissuasion? Was my girl bad? Then who else could keep such innocence and purity appealing to me most? How many lonely guys are there still on earth looking desperately for their Mr. and Mrs. Right? How did I feel to be much smarter and more thoughtfully profound in knowledge and studying while there were countless people true to form? What and how much unforgivable have I done and was anyhow all forgiven by Him? Just count, He urged me gently, and thus I would realize how damned lucky I was beneath His arms despite of what a bastard I was, and, of course, I still am. He is surely the greatest teacher ever, with incredible patience and hope. I counted and counted, surprisingly to admit the number was too huge a behemoth to be conquered.

The sum? 8, but crawling.

I plotted a warm, but a bit trite snack gathering tonight for an unexpected long wait though I didn't do it completely out of my wills, yet I was quite satisfied eventually with the whole planning itself, which I would never willingly take on nor involve in for the past old party days when I was still a rabid, naive, and robust colt. Actually I hated this kind of meal: meat most, sultry and flammable always, noisy and proper uneco-friendly, not to mention a tiring waiting to suffer the consequences of abruptness and being clumsy of a bunch of laymen who were greek to the art of gastronomy on normal days and suddenly turned into the bravest cooking pioneers especially at this moment. Puuh! Why do I have to be around those unsavories all the time? Is this world not sweet enough or the saccharine is in fact the orthodox?

If I should have focused on the feeling of my taste buds or the network of olfactory bulbs, I would have missed the main point of what such reunion of pals was really supposed to refer to. For too many years, I just ignored such significant factor, only to leave those full moon camp sites as sanctuaries for those anthropologists who were sick for those days when human civilization was still incipient, for the burst of exclaimation and awe at the first sight of fire, at the first taste of cooked meat, or, at first understanding about how transcending their connoiseur de cuisine should be! Now I came to realize why these guys gathered, enchanting, chatting, and feasting on: not for the full moon, for it shows up anyway twice every month, nor for taking the holiday as another best excuse for the binge and devouring. They did so because of love. This is another practice of acting out love, love to each other, love to the ones they love, and gratefulness for being living together peacefully and happily. They showed love to their beloved by gathering in whichever way of being together, whichever moment they could mutually spare for, as long as not to say boldly and directly as "I love you." or "Thank you, my dear." Wow, is this another innovative euphemism taylormade for us Chinese? Maybe it was already intrinsic only that I had never revealed it before.

Tomorrow is the day when we Chinese commemorate one of the greatest sages as the very first teacher's birthday, Confucious, who has been ever devoting to education far back in the Warring States period (403 - 221 BC), Chow Dynasty, also known as Chinese Teacher's Day. 

As we all have to admit and be grateful that teachers are essential and vital, of the uppermost importance, to nuture the next young generations both for the wholesome welfare of the country and the future civilization of the world. Indeed, caliber is thus brought about and inspired; then the brightness and the majesty of humanity could outstand over all creatures and be practiced. This laegacy might be the origin of existance, which is perhaps the purpose what humans are created for. And what teachers do is help us realize this and further avail ourselves of our talents respectively, to fulfill and carry out the ultimate plans of our own.