After three years of writing my PhD thesis, I am finally about to defend it. In the past three years, I've been slowly wandering between the library, home, the riverside park and the café. I was shifting left and right, writing a few words a day, just like working for the commune to earn work credits.
Although I was wandering around, for three years I took the trouble to tell people that I was "catching up on my dissertation". Whenever someone asked me, "What are you working on?" I justifiably said, "I'm catching up on my dissertation.
When I said it more often, I believed it myself. Once you believe it, you start to rush, a "don't pay any attention to me, busy" attitude. Look, they are busy talking business, writing materials, evaluating titles, growing food, selling state assets, playing Iraq, while I, I am busy "catching up on papers". Listen, "catching up" on papers. This is by this bluff busy, I have gained a sense of indiscriminate adult.
A sense of adulthood is always a necessity. I'm thirty and can no longer wear lace dresses, jumping around the park, taking afternoon after afternoon, like unpalatable fruit, bite after bite and spit it out.
As a direct result of my false busyness, I began to put my life on hold for the sake of my "career". I made myself a list of things to do "after I finish my dissertation". Over the past three years, the list has grown longer and longer, including: read horror novels to my heart's content; compile all the great songs on my CDs and make my own CDs; play the latest version of Mario's game; go to two plays a week; travel to an unknown place and live there for two months; read up on world history; study the political economy of Latin America; learn to tango; and write amazing novels. ...... In short, I put all my "interests", "hobbies", "aspirations", "dreams", or I put off all my "interests", "hobbies", "wishes", "dreams", or rather, "life" itself, until "after my dissertation is finished". My dissertation was like a sick relative, and I was locked up in a small dark room, unable to go anywhere.
But one day, I suddenly thought: what if I accidentally died in a car accident in the past three years? What if I had a heart attack today? Does this mean that I could actually end my life before it even begins?
This sudden thought really scared me.
The other day I was talking to a friend and he said: "I'm going to work hard and earn a lot of money over the years, so I can retire at 40 and then travel the world.
I looked at him, did not make a sound, and secretly thought: what if you accidentally died in a car accident between 40 years old? What if you have a heart attack today?
And those parents in the newspaper, very touching, and very self-motivated to say that all of this, all for the sake of their children, when they grow up, have a career ......
I secretly thought, what if you accidentally die in a car accident before your child grows up? What if you have a heart attack today?
I was silently anxious and self-servingly sentimental for everyone. What a long list there is in everyone's heart, how many wonderful things are written in these lists, but they are always postponed, put aside, rotting in the attic of time. Why are the questions of courage always mistaken for the questions of time, while those that are heavy, depressed and have to be, are always called life itself.