Caged Bird…

He had you, caged, like a bird, stripped you, of your freedom, and, only given you attention, when he’d, felt like it. Yet, you’d not believed this, to be wrong, instead, you’d, rather, enjoyed, being caged up like a bird, by him…

without freedom from before, NOT my cartoon…

Caged bird, but once you’d had that smallest taste of freedom, outside of these golden bars, you’d become, addicted to that feel of being able to soar high and fly free, and the next time he’d, called out to you, for you to come back, you’d, hesitated, which made him, angry, ‘cuz you’d always come to him when he’d called out your name!

Caged bird, I was once, lived, comfortably, with food, shelter, and clothing (yes, this “bird” wears CLOTHES!!!), along with all the living expenses paid for, but, something was missing, that deepest part of me, that’s been, taken away, stolen, by you, from when I was, very young.

Breaking out, and finally, F-R-E-E…NOT my artwork…

Well, not anymore, I will NEVER again, live my life, as a caged bird, I’d found, my own freedom, living inside the golden bars of this, gilded cage for me, and I’m just, waiting, for my, one chance, to get free, I’ll just have to, wait, until one day, you were, too careless, to lock up, then, I shall be, forever, FREE, from being caged up, controlled, by you………

Moving & Letting Go, Thoughts

A lifestyle is what this is, translated…

Life is made up of, series of choices, which made us into who we are currently.

In the process of growing up, I’d moved, countless number of times. And because of how frequently we’d moved, once my parents forgot to tell me where we’d, moved to, after school, I didn’t know where I was turning towards, and so, I can only, start crying by the side of the roads, until my parents finally came, and found me, and led me home.

All of these earlier experiences had made me keep this habit, as I get something, I’d quickly, sorted through them, I’d tossed what needed to be tossed away quickly, and had, tried to maintain what I have, to as simple as I possibly can, so I can, “make a run for it” at any time, to deal with this never-the-same world I live in.

too many things, we’re, hanging on to…NOT my photograph…

This is not only limited to the tangible things, even the information I’d kept inside my computer, or cell phone too, the e-mails in my mailboxes, I’d, delete as much as I possibly can. Every time I’d thrown something away, I’d always felt, relieved, and in my subconscious, I’d treated throwing things away, as a stress relief method. As I’d started to feel, that something wasn’t quite right with my bladder, I’d gone to an urologist, and the doctor told me to kept a diary of my habits, and that was, when I realized, that I have, a smaller volume in my bladder, reason being I’d gone to the restrooms too often, that was why, my bladder was, so small. Normally, the doctors suggested the patients not to keep their urine inside, but my doctor told me, that I’d, needed to, keep my urine in every now and then, after all, too little of something, is also, NOT a good thing.

Thanks to all of my habits, I’d kept my home tidy, reason being, I don’t have many belongings, secondly, I’d, hidden my things inside my closets. Once a friend came by, and she was surprised, at where I’d, kept all of my things.

From when I was growing up, I’d never kept a single card, and all of those feelings were kept, deep inside of me, when I’d gone abroad, I’d not, gone shop-wild either, at most, I’d picked a keyring that’s easy to keep, and won’t take up too much space. And even for the calendars I’d received at the end of the year, I’d cut them into smaller squares, saves the space for me to hang it up, and just, stuck it with a magnet, to the side of my fridge, one piece of paper a month. And naturally, as you would’ve guessed, I’d thrown one out, as the month ended, never leaving a mark.

cleaning things out for that long and overdue yard sale here, NOT my picture…

Some people will have luggage stickers, stuck on their suitcases, that would certainly NOT be me, I’d made sure, that the stickers were, torn off completely. I’d not bought ANY yearbooks either, because it takes up a lot of space. I believe, that laptops are, invented for people like me, everything is saved, inside a small hard drive, everything is, condensed, compressed, to the smallest possible sizes.

I’d often thought, people with hoarding tendencies probably almost never moved from one place to the next, and, moving a couple of times, their hoarding tendencies may well be, cured. Moving, is an alternative sort of psychological cleaning too, you’d needed to, say goodbye to the past, learn to, lose things, learn to, begin again.

So, this, is this person’s character, s/he felt no need, to keep too many belongings, because the individual moved around a lot, and, from her/his pervious moving experiences, s/he’d learned, that keeping so many things that were of, “sentimental values” doesn’t do her/him any good, so, the individual started living, using a whole new lifestyle, a life of reductions, and, it’s, worked for her/him, fine.

Vow to Enter into Teacher’s College?

She’d still, helped her mother fulfill her dreams through her in the very end, translated…

Since I was growing up, I’d lived up to the name of a “well-behaved child”, if there was an incident, where I’d, not gone according to the adults’ wishes, probably, it was just, that once………

My father originated from Sichuan, when he was younger, he was picked out for being young and strong, to follow the army to fight off Japanese invasions, came to Taiwan in 1949, like a lot of his fellow servicemen, he too was, poor, and couldn’t provide the $60,000N.T. my mother’s family asked in her dowry. My mother who’s decisive and brave told him, “Let’s just get married at the courthouse!”, waited until we were born, in order to help with the household finances, she’d, returned back to the workforce.

Back then, she’d worked the night shifts at the electronics factory, couldn’t have the mind, to take note of our academic performances at all, but she’d always told me, “It’s best, if girls grow up to become teachers!”, as a child, I was, very naïve too, in the fourth-grade year, I’d made a poster, posted on my bedroom door, and as I entered and exited my room every single day, I’d come across the words, “Vow to Enter into Teacher’s College”.

Thanks for the blessings, I’d gotten into my first-choice of high school, and luckily, tested into the teacher’s college after I graduated, and, there were, over 1,400 exam takers who were selected into high school, while there were only, a total of one hundred sixty students into the teacher’s college, eighty men, eighty women, which showed, how difficult it was, to get accepted into teacher’s college, but, all the extra fees were, waived, and, we’d received allowances, and, after five years of coursework, we were, sent to the elementary schools to teach.

At which time, my middle school homeroom instructor spoke, “If you want to become a teacher, you can sign up for teacher’s college later on.” Teacher’s college? Such a romantic ideal, to be a college student! Back then, there was only a thirty-percent acceptance rate, and all the college age students were all good looking men and women, with books under their arms, can skip the classes, attend the dances, being able to, fall in love, etc., etc., etc.………I’d felt, a bit, wavered then.

My father told me lovingly, “You decide!”, but my mother still hoped that I could enter into teacher’s college. As I went to the hospitals for my physical before entering, I saw a couple of college students on the bus, and, I’d longed, to be one of them, like them, walking freely, inside those large university campuses, and so, I’d changed my strategies: go to high school, then, take the exams into Teacher University! My mother was furious and heartbroken, but we’re, after all, related, and so, she’d still, put up the money for my high school education.

In the three years of high school, I’d met a ton of outstanding students from all over, we’d competed in our scholastic performances, exchanged our reading materials, and conversed about movies, music, arts too, and, politics too, secretively. And every now and then, we’d fall into a frenzy, being fans of stars (there were so many classmates who were fans to Shu-Chuan Lee), but I knew well, that I’d needed to, manage my time well, if everybody around me goes to three concerts, I’ll only go to one.

Three years ago, I was lucky enough, tested into the Teacher’s University, and my mother’s worries, vanished, and, I’d finally been spared of her “I told you not to!”

So, this, is the experience of your youthful years, and, you’d, DEFIED your mother’s wishes, because you wanted an alternative experience of life that she had planned out for you, and, because you’d carried the expectations of your mother, you’d still, worked hard, and, not let her down.

Life-Like Paintings

On bringing the art one makes to life, translated…

The Painter,

like this painting, NOT my picture…

To Keep Their Hearts, Their Eyes Alive Too

To Look Upon Us Who are Outside of the Paintings

Watching Us, as We Drank the Best-Quality of Teas

(The Tea Master Also Kept the Teas Alive)

The Aromas from the Lotuses in the Paintings

Alive

The Wind in the Art, Alive

The Water, Alive

Light, Living

Never Aging

Every Tea Drinker Has the Wind Inside Their Cups

With the Light in the Cups

sketches of lotuses 的圖片結果like this one, not my sketch…

The Master of Puh-er Tea, Shih-Hai Deng Said,

“The Cups that Floated Out into the Reality

Contained the Aromas of the Scented Lotuses

So, this, is how the line of reality and creativity blurred, because the artist painted with such real-life resemblances, and, the artist gave life to whatever it is s/he had painted. Just like the tea master, instilling that life source into the teas s/he is steeping up…

 

 

Cell Phone Screen, a Short Prose

How this marriage is, slowly, falling to pieces, translated…

The new cell phone he got had a screen that’s too large, he couldn’t touch all the keys with just one hand. And because of this, when they’d gone strolling on the streets, he’d often had to let go of her hand, to return the text messages he’d received, but, he’d never let her know who he was texting to.

too tuned in to the electronic devices here, NOT my photograph…

Slowly, she’d begun to feel, that their love was like, the cell phone with the widened screen that he has………too far away, and she’s, almost, out of reach from it now.

So, you’re paying more attention to your cell phone than your wife or girlfriend, and she’d begun to feel, ignored and unimportant to you, and, if you don’t realize this, ASShole, you will, lose that good woman!

what it looks like…NOT my photograph…

A Repented Caged Bird

Turning homeward, figuring out, that home is a place that welcomes you back in, no matter what, translated…

Shortly after you’d graduated from technical high school, you’d become like a bird, caged for too long, willing, to work as a sales’ assistant at a small company, and NOT continue with your education, and be guarded by your parents.

Back then, the pays were measly, but, after work, you’d gotten the opportunity to, go into the city with your coworkers, to have some teas, to chit-chat, you’d felt, that it was, the happiest time of your life. And still, don’t know when, the you who had always followed orders, and your parents felt you had, changed, and tried to convince you, to come back home right after work, and yet, you’d, chosen, to anger them by staying out into the late hours of the nights, which caused them to lock up the doors so you couldn’t get back in as you’d returned home.

That time too.

After work, everybody agreed to go to the tea shop to hang out, and you’d told your mother, that you were going home late, but didn’t tell her the time, it’d angered your mother that she just, hung up the phone on you. Surely, that gathering WAS a blast, you’d watched all of your coworkers who are so full of life experiences share their lives’ tales, felt that everything is so very new and wonderful. Until after the gatherings, it was, already, very late, on the way home, your motorcycle skidded, and, you were, thrown to the side of the roads like a bowling ball, had multiple abrasions on your arms and legs. There was, no one around you, you’d carried your pains, gotten up, attempted to, restart your ignition. And thankfully, although the motorcycle was damaged partially, it’d still, worked.

home is a place to be, after a long, hard day, not my picture…

As you arrived home, you found the doors unlocked, you’d taken your motorcycle in. The light in the living room turned on, your mom saw how beaten you were, took a look over at your motorcycle, with that look of distress, of worry over you, didn’t say a single word, just dressed your wounds. And this scene was able to, get your heart back home again.

Afterwards, your parents didn’t blame you, or scold you. But, after that, you’d, come back home again.

So, this, is on the longing, to fly out, and realizing, that home is a harbor for you, because you’d felt that warmth from your family, how they’re always going to be there for you, no matter what, even as you’d returned home later than you were supposed to, your mother still, took care of your injuries, and that made you change your ways, you’d, realized, that home is always a safe place for you, and, it’s a place you want to be close to…

The Imprints of His Lies

You’d been, branded, like those, farm animals, by his lies, and, there’s, no way, you’ll EVER, rid yourself, of that permanent TATTOO now!

The imprints of his lies, they’d, become so deeply, entrenched, they’d gotten, so deep inside your heart and soul, that you can’t, get them back out again, not as easy as that nail you’d stepped on (in which case, I would, strongly recommend you go and get that TETANUS shot!!!)………

not my artwork…

The imprints of his lies, you’d, left him a long, long, long again, and thought, that his lies no longer affected you anymore, but, no matter how far you’d gotten, down the road, his lies had become, imprinted, into your life, and, there’s, NO way, of shakin’ it loose.

The imprints of his lies, the only way, to get rid of that scorched brand he’d implanted onto you, is by, getting OFF of him (like an addiction???), but, because, you’re not ready, to let what you’d invested into that relationship go yet, you’d still felt, taken advantage of, and kept wanting, to get your equal payback, which just, keeps you, trapped deeper, deeper, and deeper…………

not my sketch…a heart bleeding 的圖片結果