Struggle, because I am alive

Sometimes I think the times that I think in English equals to the times that I think in Chinese. Now it's one of the times when I am thinking in English and feel like telling the thoughts in words.

I have very low stamina, both physically and psychologically.

I couldn't run or climb or cycle, but I can really walk for a long distance. I have a really short attention span - especially dealing with technical stuffs like how to use a software, how to create this and that effect with what and what plug-ins; but I find myself strangely attracted to certain art expressions - for example a recent wonderful performance that I attended, Butoh Jam, held in Annexe Gallery, or the surreal atmosphere in Murakami Haruki's novels.

It's been really long since I have ever feel recharged, after one whole year (or maybe longer) of dead batteries.

I need art. I need it to feel alive. I just couldn't feel anything with my university classes, they are draining away my motivation and my purpose, and I drowned myself to death. I often feel stupid in classes, it's as if I couldn't find a reason or a purpose for me to be there. And so when most of the university courses and friends around me focus on the technique, I know I need the struggle, a struggle to find a meaning behind all these robotic skills, a struggle to express myself with all these robotic skills and make it a not-your-typical-robotic-skill-only art.

Struggles are unpleasant, but it is necessary when I don't want to be like a machine. I can never ever continue to breathe without a purpose, without a meaning, and without art.

And if it's art, I can and I will continue to struggle and move forward, because I want to feel alive.

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"You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive."

- Merce Cunningham (1919-2009)