好些天没正经工作了, 贴一篇几个月前的日记激励自己--

12/14/2007

The huge lights hanging down from the high ceiling doesn't illuminate as much as
the sunshine from the partly blinded windows. why should they--the lights--stay on all day long?
I'm sitting in the main reading room of Davis library, trying to write.
the conversation on MSN just now was going perfectly when i
had to cut it short. time is so limited, and i'm always in a hurry and have to multi-task
these days. While talking on MSN, I got some glimpses of Lucien Freud's portrait paintings
on NYT. They're astonishingly powerful--touching and unsettling at the same time to me.
Looking at them, I feel as if in the middle of reading a novel like A Hundred years of
solitude or Middlesex: the work's power is so tempting that I would wholeheartedly immerse
myself in it for as long as possible.