云......

啊我这杂草丛生的BLOG......

今天来除一点点草好了.

其实主要是最近写文写得有点头大,来这儿调剂一下.

啊说起来就作个广告吧,本人现在在写小说,已经写了五万多字了,希望大家能去捧捧场,献花砸砖灌水随意(在杭外如许的高手面前我可不敢那什么...),主要就是希望能留言,给我提点意见建议啊交流一下:http://www.jjwxc.net/onebook.php?novelid=205696   

那,如果对古装言情这类东西特别反感的人就不用去了(唉,其实我是以一个穿越时空回去的人为主角,所以还是有一些现代色彩...有吗?有的吧~自言自语中...),呵呵,给我点精神支持就好:)

 

前天晚上做了一个梦,梦见了一个人.原来以为早已事过境迁云淡风清了,却没想到在梦见的时候还能在心里搅出那么多的心情.

以前一直不以为然的一句话才终于有些感受到:你以为自己早已忘记了,其实一直都在你的心里.

只不过时间不会倒退,掀起一层泥土,看过后还剩下什么呢?

我所能做的也只是埋上泥土,然后醒来,在阳光下装作什么也未曾发生过.......

As somebody once said there's a difference between a failure and a fiasco.

A failure is simply the non- presence of success. Any fool can accomplish failure.

But a fiasco... A fiasco is a disaster of mythic proportions. A fiasco is a folktale told to others that makes other people feel more alive because it didn't happen to them.

 

Success, not greatness was the only god the entire world served.

 

I don't know a lot about everything but I do know a lot about the part of everything that I know which is people.

Everybody is less mysterious than they think they are.

 

More important is to know where to go.

 

I spend so much time thinking about all the answers to the problem that I forget what the problem actually was。

 

Men see things in a box. And women see them in a round room.

 

I think I've been asleep most of my life.

 

Death and life，Right next door to each other ! There's a hair between them.

 

But they say it will hit you. It could be 10 minutes or it could be 10 years from now. So it's good that you talk about it,or don't talk about it.

Well, we have talked about it, but that's what they say.

I've always wondered this. Who are"they"?

You know,"them." The inimitable collective"them."

And who says we're supposed to listen to them ?

They do !

 

- I don't need an ice cream cone.

- It's not an ice cream cone.

What's an ice cream cone ?

"Here's a little something to make you happy. Something sweet that melts in five minutes."

 

I'm impossible to forget, but I'm hard to remember.

 

You're an artist, man. Your job is to break through barriers. Not accept blame and bow and say : "Thank you, I'm a loser, I'll go away now."

You want to be really great ? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make them wonder why you're still smiling. That's true greatness to me.

 

You have five minutes to wallow in the delicious misery. Enjoy it, embrace it, discard it... and proceed.

 

His death was only the beginning of his victory.

 

Sadness is easier because it's surrender.

 

No true fiasco ever began as a quest for mere adequacy.

A motto of the British Special Service Air Force is : "Those who risk, win. "

A single green vine shoot is able to grow through cement.

The Pacific Northwestern salmon beats itself bloody on its quest to travel hundreds of miles upstream against the current, with a single purpose. Sex, of course。But also，life.

最近的日子平淡如水.

能说说话的人大都不在身边.我越来越能独来独往,沉默寡言而又安之若素.

有些人即使分开了很久音信全无,再聚首的时候也依然能亲切如昨.自然地说话,无拘无束;毫不掩饰,哪怕静默也不会觉得窘迫.

而有些人也许天天出现在你身边,彼此都熟悉对方的面孔甚至名字,可从不交谈.碰面是装作没看见,认识而又不认识,比陌生人更陌生.

是的,陌生人还有熟悉的可能,而这类人已经判定,你们是不同属性的,彼此没有交集.

所以,不想费力去做无用的努力.不属于同一范畴的人又何必硬要成为表面上熟络得不行的朋友?
听音乐,看视频,在无足轻重和无趣的课上看书.

这里的人喧嚣而聒噪,他们有这资本.从他们身上已可以明显得嗅出未来政客,商人,学者,"金领"们的气息.他们是那样令人骄傲的未来精英,前途美好光明.

我幸运地混迹其中,也幸运地被其忽视.存在也仿佛不存在.

不在乎.这样反而让我感到自由.

 

春日不是被宠爱得无已加负吗?

我终于开始有点喜欢这个季节了.

可以默默地坐着车穿过城郊的街道.

独自对着漫天彻底的灿烂春光,会心地牵动嘴角.

这篇是过年中写的.

最近没怎么动笔,就先发一篇充充数吧.毕竟,似乎已经一个月没来打理这个BLOG了.

 

 

放假了,人也就变得懒了.

可却比任何时候都想象鱼一样悄无声息地生活,特别是在春节.

觉得自己越来越讨厌这些礼节式的拜访.一年中根本碰不到一两次面甚至有些完全陌生的远方亲戚,却还一定要强颜应对.

一定要去,被父母训诫着,要体谅老人们的心.

而另一些,也是出于各种各样的理由不得不去.

是我太天真,太自私,太身在福中不知福了吧.只是,那样对我来说真的是又累又窘迫.

人少些我还回逼着自己说些什么,一旦人多,我就可以从头到尾不开口,从小就这样.

 

父亲总是对我说着什么人的高薪和了不得的职位.

我知道,他希望我也能成为那样的一个人.

可是我只是希望能自给自足地自由生活.

物质构建起的华丽宫殿总有一天会轻易地就彻底坍塌,腐败糜烂,露出它空虚的本质.而我想成为的只是一个清洁自在,充实坚定的人.

这会是我的天真幼稚吗?

 

幽暗的房间,大排为迎接新年而擦得干净剔透的玻璃窗.

窗外是一朵朵飞腾的烟花.绽放瞬间,划破屋内的黑暗,带来绚烂虚幻的光明.

却还是被这光明震撼,仿佛直接就击中生命中的幽微瞬间,吐露刹那芳华.

摘录了一些印象深刻的文字,给大家看.

它们让我想了很多,几次提笔又不知道该怎么去描述自己的感受.

然后微笑着释然.

也许,这些文字本身,已是最好的答案.

 

孤独是,在你需要别人的时候,你遍寻不着,在你不需要别人的时候,你自给自足.

灵魂象茁壮的黝黑枝桠,一簇一簇,开满即将被大风吹熄的白色花朵.它们不是灯笼.不能照明我独自颠沛流离的路途.

 

烟花飞腾的时候,火焰掉入海中.遗忘就和记得一样,是送给彼此的最好纪念.爱,从来都不算是归宿.也不是我们彼此的救渡.

 

爱一个人,是因着在那个人身上能够映照出自我.

我们并不彼此相爱.爱的是在对方身上折射出的另一个自我.剧烈而不真实的反光.以为自己有多荣耀.

 

<<约伯记>>:海中的水绝尽,江河消散干涸.人也是如此,躺下不在起来,等到天没有了,仍不得复醒,也不得从睡中唤醒.

 

春天被宠爱得无以为继.可以深情直至溃不成军,破罐子破摔般的放肆,意兴阑珊的颓唐.

 

好的男人,能够帮助一个女人提升自己.带她摸索灵魂的另一个层面,替她打开一扇门,看到别处的天地.她因此而更喜欢那个新的被发掘的自己.

被一双聪慧的手雕琢,有了高贵的线条.她获得改造.

 

女人对待一个男人的态度,要么如同隔岸观烟花,心里惊动,无关痛痒,满目照耀.

要么就是冷暖自知,血肉纠缠,不依不饶.她从来就没有中间状态.

 

每个人依旧只能在被许可的范围界定内自生自灭.

 

捡棒子的狗熊并不愚蠢,它只是在做它直觉中的事情.它也许会有两个结局,最终手中空空,什么也没有;或者抓住它最后捡到的那个棒子,对它自己说,就是这个了.

就是这样.结局又算如何.如果仅仅是为了结局,那么我们可以从出生就直接走向死亡.

 

一切已经过去的事的确都无可避免地打上了封印，在背景里暗下去．生命里始终有逼近的东西，并不可跨越．但随着年岁渐长，开始相信，在人的一生中，最大的财富，是回忆．