A long entry

Finally I found the time to sit down and start an entry. It's been so busy since I was back. In case you're one of those who haven't discovered my absence for a month or so, I was in China for a leisure trip. Visited places where many of you would probably never ever go in your lifetime, such as Dunhuang, Xinjiang, Lanzhou, Uiyugur, Turpan, Yinchuan, Qinghai etc. The basic aim was to visit the Mogao Grotteos and see the famous Dunhuang murals. The art and wisdom of the people living centuries ago is unbelievable and there can be murals which are so intrinsic and fine that you wonder if even computers can manage such. At the same time, with so many different people on the same trip, I came to truly learn the meaning of 'everyone has their own faults'. It sounds such a simple theory and you've probably heard it since you were young. So did I. But on this trip, I really felt the meaning in those words. Abstract or philosophical?
Anyway, let's not go into the details of the trip because I've written a journal on it and don't exactly have much to share. Ask anyone who's asked me about my trip. I had few words for an answer. Not that I did not enjoy the trip (nothing meats having not to go work!), but rather, it was kind of a retreat for me that allowed me to lose touch with the busy world. It wasn't a religious trip as some may wonder. Just that I didn't read any papers, or listen to any radio, or send any phone messages. I simply shut off from the world which is what I think a trip should be – lose touch with the things, people and activities that you have constantly been in touch with. That's supposed to recharge me, which it did.
Oops. Sidetracked too much. Like I was telling jx yesterday. I've been cleaning up my house for the past few weekends (with little progress) as the place was really messy and there may be plans to move soon. As a result, I took out all those boxes that I've stuffed my memories with. There were those photo albums, autograph books, mini gifts here and there, souvenirs etc. Believe it or not, but I kept almost every single gift that I ever received. Whether it was for my birthday, Christmas, or just some form of encouragement/thanks, I kept it all. Imagine the variety of things there are, considering how many years it has been! But this time round, I knew I had to give up on most. Rental rates are very high these days, and it'll probably take quite days to move the stuffs in my house, so as little as possible was the way to go. With this, the spoilt stuffs were taken out, those no-longer-mean-so-much stuffs were also put aside, and I kept only those that mean something to me or those that were handmade. If I had a hard time thinking about who gave it for what occasion, I put it with the to-send-away pile. While doing this, I kind of wondered why many friendships just could not stand the test of time. When I received those gifts, many times it was when we were really good friends. There were even gifts which declared me as best friend. But now, years later, perhaps the person is no longer a confidante, or more sadly at times, no longer in my life. Indeed, I find it difficult at times to just admit that friends come and go, and that friends today may be foes tomorrow. And to think i'm supposed to be not emotional type.
The more difficult time came when it was those boxes of letters. Yes. I actually kept every single letter that I ever received. Even notes for encouragement during exams! Call me the garang guni gal? From those Christmas/Chinese New Year//birthday cards I received since thirteen, to those angel-mortal letters back in jc times, to those letters that people confide their problems in, to those notes that people write unexpected words, to those letters written in pure boliao-ness, I had each letter in its envelope (if there was any), and I packed the letters by date and sender. Crazy? Looking at it now, right, maybe. Again I had allowed myself all these years to be weighed down by emotional baggages. So I made myself screen through the cards and letters and see if there was any of keepsake potential. It was easy with those angel-mortal letters where I don't even keep in touch with most of them anymore. It was still easy with those greeting cards. And I made myself set these on fire two weekends ago. The really tough time came when I opened the box that contained all sent by a single person. Perhaps there was hundred letters in there? *hey, maybe I should have counted in all how many I burnt. I read through some and that brought back a lot of past memories, be it good or bad. Emotions that I've locked up in the box years ago, scenes that I thought had been erased from my memory, all these came floating back somehow. I just hate myself sometimes for remembering things too well. Perhaps many will say I choose not to forget, else I would have dumped all these long ago. I guess I must admit to this to a certain degree but when I remember how much I've put in, I sometimes simply feel helpless. It's not any form of regret but rather, a kind of questioning of oneself on why things turn out the way they did. It goes the same for some other letters where I read, re-read, and re-re-read each word for at least 10 times since I ever got it. You just wonder what if sometimes things didn't happen the way they did. But enough of living in the past. I've gotten over that a few years back. It's just at those points where I pick up the fragments of memories that I go emotional. So the way to solve it now is to get rid of the fragments. So much of these shall go into the fire this weekend. No fragments = no remembering. That should make things right. But of course, some are saved from the axe because I simply still cannot bring myself to destroying it. Maybe a few years later?
I heave a sigh of relief after writing the above somehow, despite it being 1am in the middle of the night. I guess the meet ups with several people over these few weeks added on to me being so emotional, and the blogging was a good outlet for expressing what I've been feeling. It feels kind of sad at times when you simply can't find the right person to talk to. It's unlike in earlier years where I had many people who I can simply call and confide in, Is this the growing up stage? Turning old stage? Or simply, a loss of close friends stage? Or am I getting too philosophical for most people?
Anway, it's bedtime!