2013 Year-End Summary

I don’t know how many people are willing to write their own biography. I feel like I’m writing my own chronicle. The content for 2013 is roughly: “In the first year of the Celestial Empire’s dream fulfillment, in March Hongguang entered the room and filled the hall with light, taking it as a sacred sign. Thus he resigned from his post at the East Gate and went to the West Gate to join the wine-making workshop as a painter. He worked diligently for over half a year. That year, the government was harmonious and everything went smoothly—nothing else to report.” Okay, just kidding. At least there are a few other things to mention.

First, my financial situation is not optimistic. All children from humble backgrounds definitely realize after entering society that money is a good thing—I really lack money. I thought I’d have ten thousand yuan saved by year’s end, but actually ended up with nothing. The money that turned into “fixed asset investments” includes: a DSLR for over seven thousand, a desktop computer host for five thousand, a phone for seventeen hundred, a mountain bike for fourteen hundred, a table for four hundred, a second-hand router, and some odds and ends like a wallet and soy milk maker. My book-hoarding habit has been cured—bought a little over two hundred yuan worth of books all year and basically didn’t finish reading them. Although the company provides meals and my parents provide housing, the rest of the money really doesn’t know where it went. Also, under family pressure and practical circumstances, my parents put a house on my head. Starting from 2014, I’ll have to pay over two thousand yuan in monthly loan repayments. Honestly, after getting the house, I often feel like a bird with its feathers plucked—those wishes that were once within reach now feel so far away. If there’s still an economic plan for the new year, I still hope to save ten thousand yuan.

Second, trying to make myself more interesting. This year at the new company, I’ve met more middle-aged people, especially batches of applicants who come intermittently. In them I see incompetence, helplessness, and the “broken jar, broken throw” mentality. Maybe they weren’t like this originally, but society forced them into it with no way out—can’t learn skills and can’t find connections. If there’s still hope for the second half of life, they can only pin their hopes on the welfare lottery. To avoid tragedy, the reality before us is to accumulate more and learn more—for example, learning Python programming, carving leisure seals, observing how leaders handle things, or even preparing a stand-up routine that can fill any occasion or some dirty jokes to amuse girls. These are what I call the内涵 (connotation) of being “interesting” and my life philosophy. I believe if I persist, at eighty I’ll still be able to chat and laugh with everyone.

Third, I’m still a good person. Actually, I’d rather be a bad person—if I didn’t like you, why the hell would I be good to you? My brain must be waterlogged!

Fourth, becoming an ordinary person. Although I once wanted to walk a bit on the artsy path, seeing some people acting noble, aloof, and detached from worldly affairs gradually made me disgusted. But I don’t mean to disparage “artsy”—I just can’t stand people using the name of artsiness to pretend sophistication, pretend taste, and play the cultured fool. You were born poor—why pretend to be pretentious? If you love reading, read; if you love rock, rock; if you love coffee, drink it. Why drink ten-yuan red wine and have to swirl it in a stemmed glass for ages? Why eat Western food once and have to reflect on about Britain’s warmth? Why see a full moon and stay up all night writing jueju poems? Really, there aren’t that many causes and effects, inevitabilities and coincidences. Life doesn’t have that many rituals. If you want to laugh, laugh; if you want to cry, cry; if you like it, like it; if you hate it, hate it.

A whole year—probably that’s all there is to say.