February
Pouring rain splashed
Across the unusually green lake
Greeting cards became oblivious
To travellers in a foreign land
Which date is it
I have lost track
February
The only trace I get
Family and friends
Reunion and parades
Where is my heart
Going to stay
On this melancholy day
I pray it will soon end
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Identity
Identity
A granule of sand
Hides a world of foreign game
Enigmatic silhouettes scurry across
Ocean prairie and no man’s land
Give or take
Which shall determine pain
Identity
I try to delineate
In this universe
Whether productive or additive
Theories can’t explain every trend
Reality is sometimes hard to face
Yet lively burns the essence of fate
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
A granule of sand
Hides a world of foreign game
Enigmatic silhouettes scurry across
Ocean prairie and no man’s land
Give or take
Which shall determine pain
Identity
I try to delineate
In this universe
Whether productive or additive
Theories can’t explain every trend
Reality is sometimes hard to face
Yet lively burns the essence of fate
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
With or Without You
I got e-mail from a publishing company, saying they would like to publish my poetry. Oh well, although I have written over 100 poems, I still want to wait for a little while. Besides, I do not have extra cash doing that right now…
Spending almost the whole day in the computer lab at school, reading books, collecting references for my dissertation. To be honest, I feel my first semester was a joke, really. I despise dishonesty!! Anyway, I chose to move on and self-improve in areas I’d like to know better.
I love U2’s ‘With or Without You’. This song reminds me of an old friend far away in the east. When the sun was about to hide his face, the orange- red colour spilled all over the sky, leaving a trace of mundane thought behind the wheel across the western wilderness. The boulevard to lost secrets emerged without hesitation…
With or without you
Life will still move on
The sun will rise once more
Even thousands of nightmares lurk inside my head
With or without you
I choose to let go
Although fate seems to seal
The last drop of drew
As I look back
Fond memory replays
So fast
I almost can’t catch
The lyric composed
By your hands
With or without you
Tomorrow will be a new day
I say to myself again and again
Spending almost the whole day in the computer lab at school, reading books, collecting references for my dissertation. To be honest, I feel my first semester was a joke, really. I despise dishonesty!! Anyway, I chose to move on and self-improve in areas I’d like to know better.
I love U2’s ‘With or Without You’. This song reminds me of an old friend far away in the east. When the sun was about to hide his face, the orange- red colour spilled all over the sky, leaving a trace of mundane thought behind the wheel across the western wilderness. The boulevard to lost secrets emerged without hesitation…
With or without you
Life will still move on
The sun will rise once more
Even thousands of nightmares lurk inside my head
With or without you
I choose to let go
Although fate seems to seal
The last drop of drew
As I look back
Fond memory replays
So fast
I almost can’t catch
The lyric composed
By your hands
With or without you
Tomorrow will be a new day
I say to myself again and again
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
Mindset of Democracy
Mindset of Democracy
It takes
Not only time
But also mindset
Democracy
An ideology of human society
Forming in a battle
Between captivity and free agency
What lacks usually
Is engagement and responsibility
Self-complaining would never achieve
Real participation must be activated
If we want a government without corruption
It needs
Not only belief
But also education
Rome wasn’t built in a day
Therefore
How can we expect dictatorship
To be demolished immediately
How can we anticipate something
That requires more than extrinsic change
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
It takes
Not only time
But also mindset
Democracy
An ideology of human society
Forming in a battle
Between captivity and free agency
What lacks usually
Is engagement and responsibility
Self-complaining would never achieve
Real participation must be activated
If we want a government without corruption
It needs
Not only belief
But also education
Rome wasn’t built in a day
Therefore
How can we expect dictatorship
To be demolished immediately
How can we anticipate something
That requires more than extrinsic change
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
Monday, January 21, 2008
Great-grandfather
When I was five years old, great-grandfather lived with us a few months a year. He wasn’t always home. All I knew was he traveled a lot, either visiting friends or gambling somewhere. He studied Chinese medicine and could give prescriptions to others. I remembered seeing many of his old medicine books, which were written in Chinese calligraphy.
Great-grandfather didn’t like to work although he was intelligent and literate. At his time, those who could read and write gained a very high social status. Unfortunately, we, as great-grandchildren, never got close with him because he had such a horrific temper, like a walking bomb, which could be set off anytime of the day!
There are only bits and pieces of memory about great-grandfather from my childhood. I recall one of the episodes a long time ago.
“So, how come we have a stainless steel lunch box at home from the railway company? Shouldn’t people return those when they finish eating on the train?” asked I.
“Oh, you don’t know how smart I am. I just put it into my satchel and pretended sleeping when the clerk walked back and forth to collect others’ boxes.”
“But that was stealing!” shouted I.
A slap came across my face like a lightning before I could react.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“How dare you, talking to me like that, you little brat! Remember I’m your great-grandfather!”
“But…but teachers at school always…” Another slap came my way but I dodged with a jolt of instinct.
“Hahaha, not bad not bad, I guess I’ve taught you well! Never stand there like a cadaver, letting others hurt you. But you could’ve defended yourself by a punch!”
“Could I really?” I asked with awe.
“Of course NOT! Silly-egg! I’m still your great-grandfather!”
“Now tell me what you’ve learned in school today?”
“Oh the usual things, math, Chinese, history, science, and music. I am good at math.”
“Umm, that’s great. Math is good for your logical thinking. But don’t forget to memorize Chinese poetry and practice calligraphy everyday!”
“Okay, but why did you ‘borrow’ the lunch box from the train?” asked I cautiously.
“Ai-yah, you never give up, huh? I think the ticket was too expensive and the lunch was disgusting, so the box was something I could take home for all the money I paid. Those bastards ripped off people with outrageous ticket fare and lousy food!”
“But that was still wrong!”
Now I could see fire burning in great-grandpa’s eyes and the walking cane in his right hand was about to lift, and so were my trembling legs…
“You CAN’T take away things that don’t belong to you!” crying out loud as I ran from a major disaster.
“Confucius said: righteous people gain wealth via righteous means!” shouted I more loudly.
“Confucius my arse! He is a dead old fart! You come back here, bastard!”
I guessed many nerves and cells on my face and in the brain died due to the gruesome dialogues and action films we played. Sometimes I wondered why he behaved the way he did.
Once a shrewd man, now a feeble being with dementia
On an early spring morning, I woke, brushed teeth, washed my face, and was about to eat breakfast. Suddenly, I heard a glass-shattered sound coming from the kitchen.
“Ai-yah, who put my false teeth in the rice bowl?” said angrily great-grandfather.
I quickly went into the kitchen and tried to sweep the broken pieces of the ceramic bowl.
“Didn’t you put them in the bowl last night? You always do that before going to bed!” said I.
“Nonsense! How can’t I remember if I put them in the bowl? It’s you, right?”
“Umm, I never touch those. They look creepy to me!”
“Creepy? You said I’m creepy?”
“No no, I meant the teeth.”
“Where is your mother? I need to talk to her!” shouted furiously great-grandpa.
“She is at the market, selling vegetables.”
“Where is your father?”
“Well, he is at work.”
“Then why are you home? Shouldn’t you be at school with your siblings?”
“Umm, I had a cold and mother wanted me to stay home for rest.” Now my feet were getting weak.
“Cold? Rest? I think you’re just avoiding school and being lazy!”
“That’s not true!” I retorted.
“What now? Raising voice like that? You want to argue with me?”
“No, I don’t dare, I’m just stating the fact…” as I stared at my feet as if they were not mine.
“Stating my arse! I think you ARE fabricating the fact!”
As I tried to defend myself again, I saw a twist of muscle around the eyes of great-grandpa.
“WHO the heck are you, anyway? Why are you in my house?”
“What? I am your great-grandson!”
“Bullshit! I’ve never seen you before! And I don’t have any great-grandchildren!”
“Oh my god, what happened to you, great-grandpa?”
“Stop calling me great-grandpa! Get the hell out of my house or I will KILL you!”
As the old man grabbed the knife on the chopping board, ready to charge, I fled like a frightened antelope being chased by a ferocious leopard.
Great-grandfather didn’t like to work although he was intelligent and literate. At his time, those who could read and write gained a very high social status. Unfortunately, we, as great-grandchildren, never got close with him because he had such a horrific temper, like a walking bomb, which could be set off anytime of the day!
There are only bits and pieces of memory about great-grandfather from my childhood. I recall one of the episodes a long time ago.
“So, how come we have a stainless steel lunch box at home from the railway company? Shouldn’t people return those when they finish eating on the train?” asked I.
“Oh, you don’t know how smart I am. I just put it into my satchel and pretended sleeping when the clerk walked back and forth to collect others’ boxes.”
“But that was stealing!” shouted I.
A slap came across my face like a lightning before I could react.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“How dare you, talking to me like that, you little brat! Remember I’m your great-grandfather!”
“But…but teachers at school always…” Another slap came my way but I dodged with a jolt of instinct.
“Hahaha, not bad not bad, I guess I’ve taught you well! Never stand there like a cadaver, letting others hurt you. But you could’ve defended yourself by a punch!”
“Could I really?” I asked with awe.
“Of course NOT! Silly-egg! I’m still your great-grandfather!”
“Now tell me what you’ve learned in school today?”
“Oh the usual things, math, Chinese, history, science, and music. I am good at math.”
“Umm, that’s great. Math is good for your logical thinking. But don’t forget to memorize Chinese poetry and practice calligraphy everyday!”
“Okay, but why did you ‘borrow’ the lunch box from the train?” asked I cautiously.
“Ai-yah, you never give up, huh? I think the ticket was too expensive and the lunch was disgusting, so the box was something I could take home for all the money I paid. Those bastards ripped off people with outrageous ticket fare and lousy food!”
“But that was still wrong!”
Now I could see fire burning in great-grandpa’s eyes and the walking cane in his right hand was about to lift, and so were my trembling legs…
“You CAN’T take away things that don’t belong to you!” crying out loud as I ran from a major disaster.
“Confucius said: righteous people gain wealth via righteous means!” shouted I more loudly.
“Confucius my arse! He is a dead old fart! You come back here, bastard!”
I guessed many nerves and cells on my face and in the brain died due to the gruesome dialogues and action films we played. Sometimes I wondered why he behaved the way he did.
Once a shrewd man, now a feeble being with dementia
On an early spring morning, I woke, brushed teeth, washed my face, and was about to eat breakfast. Suddenly, I heard a glass-shattered sound coming from the kitchen.
“Ai-yah, who put my false teeth in the rice bowl?” said angrily great-grandfather.
I quickly went into the kitchen and tried to sweep the broken pieces of the ceramic bowl.
“Didn’t you put them in the bowl last night? You always do that before going to bed!” said I.
“Nonsense! How can’t I remember if I put them in the bowl? It’s you, right?”
“Umm, I never touch those. They look creepy to me!”
“Creepy? You said I’m creepy?”
“No no, I meant the teeth.”
“Where is your mother? I need to talk to her!” shouted furiously great-grandpa.
“She is at the market, selling vegetables.”
“Where is your father?”
“Well, he is at work.”
“Then why are you home? Shouldn’t you be at school with your siblings?”
“Umm, I had a cold and mother wanted me to stay home for rest.” Now my feet were getting weak.
“Cold? Rest? I think you’re just avoiding school and being lazy!”
“That’s not true!” I retorted.
“What now? Raising voice like that? You want to argue with me?”
“No, I don’t dare, I’m just stating the fact…” as I stared at my feet as if they were not mine.
“Stating my arse! I think you ARE fabricating the fact!”
As I tried to defend myself again, I saw a twist of muscle around the eyes of great-grandpa.
“WHO the heck are you, anyway? Why are you in my house?”
“What? I am your great-grandson!”
“Bullshit! I’ve never seen you before! And I don’t have any great-grandchildren!”
“Oh my god, what happened to you, great-grandpa?”
“Stop calling me great-grandpa! Get the hell out of my house or I will KILL you!”
As the old man grabbed the knife on the chopping board, ready to charge, I fled like a frightened antelope being chased by a ferocious leopard.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Police
The first time I heard ‘Every breath you take’ from Police, I was probably in the elementary school. Because my sisters loved English songs, I often heard them play music in the house. Of course, I had no idea what Sting was singing back then, but I was deeply attracted to the melody. Regardless of the sad story hidden in the lyric, I still find this song very charming. Perhaps it brings back some of my old memories with my siblings.
Thanks to Youtube, now people can search anything they want to listen to and watch. That’s how I get my listen to Police from time to time. By the way, I’m reading Amy Tan’s ‘The Bonesetter’s Daughter’ now. It’s a book I’ve known for a long time but never gotten a chance to read. Last week, S. and his friend and I went for a walk along the beach and saw this second-hand book stand. I spotted the book and decided to buy it. I always love Amy Tan not only she has Chinese roots but also her writing style reminds me of Chi-June, a renown writer, from China who had lived in Taiwan for many years. I recall reading her books growing up, picturing someday I would travel to China, visiting those breathtaking scenery.
There is always a lot to write about relationship between parents and children in a Chinese family. The profound influence of tradition upon how older generations rendered their offspring, the role of a good son and daughter, the importance of education, morality, obedience, the obligation to honour the entire clan, etc, are often themes in hundreds of writing one can find in the market. Interestingly, does everyone feel the same way, meaning knowing one’s roots and identity is significant in life? All I realize is ‘deep’ reading really brings certain self-reflection to me and certainly it makes temporarily forget what is troubling me in reality.
Speaking of Police, what other music do you like? Do you always listen to every song’s lyric? What makes you think a song is a masterwork? What triggers you to like a particular song? In what kind of mood do you feel like listening to a specific song? Now, I feel like having a listen to Amy Whitehouse’s ‘Valerie’…
Thanks to Youtube, now people can search anything they want to listen to and watch. That’s how I get my listen to Police from time to time. By the way, I’m reading Amy Tan’s ‘The Bonesetter’s Daughter’ now. It’s a book I’ve known for a long time but never gotten a chance to read. Last week, S. and his friend and I went for a walk along the beach and saw this second-hand book stand. I spotted the book and decided to buy it. I always love Amy Tan not only she has Chinese roots but also her writing style reminds me of Chi-June, a renown writer, from China who had lived in Taiwan for many years. I recall reading her books growing up, picturing someday I would travel to China, visiting those breathtaking scenery.
There is always a lot to write about relationship between parents and children in a Chinese family. The profound influence of tradition upon how older generations rendered their offspring, the role of a good son and daughter, the importance of education, morality, obedience, the obligation to honour the entire clan, etc, are often themes in hundreds of writing one can find in the market. Interestingly, does everyone feel the same way, meaning knowing one’s roots and identity is significant in life? All I realize is ‘deep’ reading really brings certain self-reflection to me and certainly it makes temporarily forget what is troubling me in reality.
Speaking of Police, what other music do you like? Do you always listen to every song’s lyric? What makes you think a song is a masterwork? What triggers you to like a particular song? In what kind of mood do you feel like listening to a specific song? Now, I feel like having a listen to Amy Whitehouse’s ‘Valerie’…
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Brain vs. Heart
Brain vs. Heart
Sense or sensibility
It’s hard to distinguish
When chaos hits
Brain combats with firing heat
Yet
How’s heart doing
Can you feel its voice in between
Day or night
Highs or lows
Opposition must form
So one can perceive
Egoism or altruism
Blessing or predicament
Nonetheless
All things shall return
To dust of dust
In the END
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
Sense or sensibility
It’s hard to distinguish
When chaos hits
Brain combats with firing heat
Yet
How’s heart doing
Can you feel its voice in between
Day or night
Highs or lows
Opposition must form
So one can perceive
Egoism or altruism
Blessing or predicament
Nonetheless
All things shall return
To dust of dust
In the END
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Healing Soul
Healing Soul
Physical body can be wounded
Can soul be tainted
Without light
How do we acknowledge darkness
Pomegranate trees legendary knights
And multi-coloured kites
A touching story strums
Deepest pain from every pore
Evil is part of nature
Redemption have we gotten
Healing soul
Who can truly make do
Silence falls
A protest or being withdrawn
Promise tossed
Trust lost
I still believe hope
No matter how relentless
The world seems to us all
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
Physical body can be wounded
Can soul be tainted
Without light
How do we acknowledge darkness
Pomegranate trees legendary knights
And multi-coloured kites
A touching story strums
Deepest pain from every pore
Evil is part of nature
Redemption have we gotten
Healing soul
Who can truly make do
Silence falls
A protest or being withdrawn
Promise tossed
Trust lost
I still believe hope
No matter how relentless
The world seems to us all
Written by JerSki BjorkSen
Monday, January 07, 2008
Empathy, not a human-specific attribute
The newest issue (Jan-Feb, 2008) of ‘Scientific American Mind’ published an article regarding empathy and its recent experiments and discovery. What intrigues me is that results of studies demonstrated and suggested that humans may not be the only beings having empathy. Monkeys, apes, and rodents also show similar behaviours.
The mechanism triggering empathy lies in the mirror neurons in brains. The strong claim, proposed by psychologists, that top-down processes are the main functionality showing empathy. That means people have a tendency to put themselves in others’ ‘shoes’ so as to empathize the pain or difficulties other people are undergoing.
However, neurobiologists’ viewpoint of bottom-up processes provide another perspective.
After all, imagination cannot fully stimulate a person’s emotion. For instance, imaging how an aeroplane flies does not trigger any empathy. The interesting part is how human, or rather brains, distinguish and show various degrees of empathy according to the relationship with subjects who are suffering. The article talks about other mammalians such as rats, monkeys also have similar behaviours. Certainly we are not positively sure whether these animals are exhibiting the exact same mechanism as humans or there are other factors involved.
My opinion is: can empathy only be explained by mirror neurons that predominantly resides in frontal lobes? What about a person’s cognition and memories? Can we clearly draw a line between cerebral activities and abstract conceptions such as emotion and spirituality? What about nature vs. nurture issues? To me personally, there is a still a long way to go if we want to shed light on how empathy is produced and what factors or mechanisms ascribe to this emotional attribute.
The mechanism triggering empathy lies in the mirror neurons in brains. The strong claim, proposed by psychologists, that top-down processes are the main functionality showing empathy. That means people have a tendency to put themselves in others’ ‘shoes’ so as to empathize the pain or difficulties other people are undergoing.
However, neurobiologists’ viewpoint of bottom-up processes provide another perspective.
After all, imagination cannot fully stimulate a person’s emotion. For instance, imaging how an aeroplane flies does not trigger any empathy. The interesting part is how human, or rather brains, distinguish and show various degrees of empathy according to the relationship with subjects who are suffering. The article talks about other mammalians such as rats, monkeys also have similar behaviours. Certainly we are not positively sure whether these animals are exhibiting the exact same mechanism as humans or there are other factors involved.
My opinion is: can empathy only be explained by mirror neurons that predominantly resides in frontal lobes? What about a person’s cognition and memories? Can we clearly draw a line between cerebral activities and abstract conceptions such as emotion and spirituality? What about nature vs. nurture issues? To me personally, there is a still a long way to go if we want to shed light on how empathy is produced and what factors or mechanisms ascribe to this emotional attribute.
Friday, January 04, 2008
New Year
This new year started a few days back and resolutions seemed far-fetched. Well, we all make plans in life but how many have we really carried out?
The new semester lies ahead. I hope I can be an ordinary, happy person. S. has become part of my deepest thought, a joyful moment I await impatiently every night before sleep.
If I say World Peace is my ultimate new year’s resolution, what would you say? TV broadcasts saddening events in Pakistan, Kenya, and other parts of the world. I happened to see the kidnapping case of Elizabeth Smart last night. Oh, SLC, a far-away city, full of my old memories during 2002 to 2004. The blue sky and Trax and bus 55 and 71 and the ice cream shop in Bountiful seem so vague yet profoundly rooted in my head…
The new semester lies ahead. I hope I can be an ordinary, happy person. S. has become part of my deepest thought, a joyful moment I await impatiently every night before sleep.
If I say World Peace is my ultimate new year’s resolution, what would you say? TV broadcasts saddening events in Pakistan, Kenya, and other parts of the world. I happened to see the kidnapping case of Elizabeth Smart last night. Oh, SLC, a far-away city, full of my old memories during 2002 to 2004. The blue sky and Trax and bus 55 and 71 and the ice cream shop in Bountiful seem so vague yet profoundly rooted in my head…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)