Without Concentration

No concentration today. I have a lot to do, but my mind just seems not interested in the goal anymore. Probably because yesterday I wrote something about politics, and I did it in the mildest way possible, but still somehow I feel somebody is annoyed at my post. However I don’t want to change just for the sake of making myself popular. I’m an Asian immigrant with a heart yearning for a more liberal and tolerant society, preferably in a lay back way if that is entirely possible. If people don’t like my view, I can’t help it. And I have always wanted to explore the disturbing fact that 40% of Asian American women voted for Trump last November–whether these women were misled, whether they were victims of misinformation, whether the various political factions from different Asian governments have an influence on their decision. The problem is that in the process of exploring this, I can become unpopular because political issues are usually touchy and incendiary.

Writing is not going well today; editing is equally nonchalant; reading is impossible. I just got this beautiful book with flowery glossy cover and just a random opening to a page, a line, “yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take, no matter where it is going” will fall into my view softly and cozily. I can imagine such a nice dream about train, although my own view of train is more utilitarian and inanimate.

Not having a good day but still dreaming of have a good day. That’s what I am thinking. I call it resilience and necessary delusion that makes life possible to live and air possible to breathe.

I can’t help comparing Edna St. Vincent Millay with Dorothy Parker. I don’t mean compare their writing since one is a poet and the other writes essays. How different they approach love and how both get inspiration out of their love. Broken hearts mean different things to the two, one accepts it as a fact of life and the other treats it with tears and screams. Both good catharsis, I guess.

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