AoNikki

For several times in the last couples of months, I've been meaning to start an entry, just to give up after leaving the first paragraph hanging there - partly because I don't know what's worth writing about, partly because I don't know how to write it. I guess I could mention what I'm doing now. I'm staying at Boston, working at the MIT Nuclear Reactor and studying a lot of reactor physics. But so what? I hardly have time for other things. So what? I have become accustomed to waking up early, not sleeping much, and having an odd eating habit. So what? My daily life is not worth mentioning. Don't take me wrong, I find what I'm doing interesting and cherish it - still that doesn't mean it has any significance to you. Why would you want to know what time I wake up, where I work, what my work is like, what I eat, who I hang out with, and what time I go to sleep? You wouldn't, and I wouldn't bore you with lists of routines. If I have anything interesting to say, however, I would have already said it by now. The fact that I still haven't thought of any, even at this moment when I'm already set to write about it, is sad.

If I had been around Boston more, I'd told you my favorite things about it. Or if I had spent more time lying on the grass by the river and gazing at the blue sky, I'd let you know what it was like to feel the green wetness and freshness between your fingers, the smell of water through your nostrils, and the wind on the surface of your body. But no. In fact, I myself seemed to have forgotten my love for those small things. Recently I've been focusing too much on the mechanism of the actions, instead of actually enjoying them.

Good news is that I didn't abandon it completely. Believe it or not, once in a while I do look back instead of forward. For example, there was this time when I read a comment on my "inspiring attitudes on life," and suddenly was reminded that I did have some kind of attitude other than cautiously walking, step-by-step, up a well-defined ladder. Or this time when I re-read the College Essay Guide that I composed a year ago and again fell my love for writing and other small things in life. A line from an architect's presentation came up in my mind "Don't lose your sense of wonder." There have been moments that I almost did, but here it is again - the sound of a leaf touching the ground, the early morning breeze, the sleeping squirrel, the grass under my feet, the cloud up above, the brilliant cymbal hit on that beat. Queen and The Beatles.

Or this time a few days ago when a friend, who I have worked with for a day or two but didn't know too well, visited Boston and we went out for dinner. But I'll save that story for later.