2014年4月29日 星期二

Comments to "The Ghost in the Mountain"

Greetings Fang-Tzu,

Congratulations on your recent accomplishment! You should be very proud of your writing and your ability to showcase your skills. The judges enjoyed your piece and provided the following feedback on your writing:

"This story has some very interesting elements and you undertook the challenging task of blending reality and fantasy (fable). There needs to be a clearer more understanding link between the real world moments and the fantasy moments and the final result of blending them should have a stronger pay off or impact on the reader at the conclusion of your story."

"Some nice images, but this piece remains a bit cryptic. I needed something more concrete. I do appreciate some of the atmospheric touches."

"I love how wise she is and how she looks at him and says "You look like him. But you are so different." The difference doesn't have to be explained- I'm so glad you don't. The fairy tale aspect makes me think of the English writer Neil Gaiman. You should check out his stories."
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Well, of course, if readers have more background knowledge about the meaning of "September 9", and Chu Ci, this story will probably be more interesting. However, this is my intention that not to explain these cultural meanings. I do believe a good story should allow readers have their own fantasy. This is, indeed, not a Chinese cultural dictionary. 
However, I notice cultural difference still exist. Asian countries seem to be in the other world.....
But again, it is not that different actually. We still share the same Neil Gaiman story!!

LACMA, I really like this outdoor design. Put this photo for no reason.
  

第一篇試寫的英文短篇小說:The Ghost in the Mountain 2(山鬼)

Maybe he was crazy.
    In his dreams, she was a divine mystery. She came only in the midnight of the deep dark dreams. Sometimes she dressed in flowers, but most of time she dressed in leaves. They always met on an old mountain trail, except one night.
    She rode a red leopard like an Amazon warrior.
    “Why you never speak?” He asked.
There were no answers. She stared at him as usual. As if she was waiting for something.
Then, there was a voice in the wind.
“Come.” the voice said. “Come to the mountain. It is time to return.”
He remembered who said that before.

He was awakened from the dream, when the clock knocked twelve.
Then he noticed that day was September 9th .
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He did go to some mountains.
He visited Mount Rushmore to see the four heads. He went to Yellowstone to see its fierce beauty. He stood on the Eagle Point…
But none of them had the old trail in his dream.

He sat by the bonfire in Yosemite Park at that night.
It was in a late September. He went to the place with a group of people, but during the night, he was alone.
He was in the mountain, a deep quite mountain.
Suddenly, he heard that voice.
“Here you are.”
She was here!
He saw the woman in his dreams. She stood in front of him. Under the shadow of trees, she looked like an ancient Greek status under the moonlight. She dressed nothing. She was naked.
“Come with me.”
He followed her order, as if there was no choice.
Then they walked on that mountain trail.
When he walked he saw her body. He knew it was not belong to a human being, but still, he thought it was charming. That was nothing related to sexual desire. Actually, when he thought about sex, it made him feel guilty.
They kept silent.
They walked through the forest without a voice, just like ghosts in the mountain.
It was just like his usual dreams, except the ending part. She led him to the end of the trail, which never happened.
“This is it.”
He wondered what was behind the tall trees.
They walked through the trees.

The glare of the suns almost blinded his eyes.
After he got used to the light, he saw there were nine suns on the east sky. On the west sky, however, was a crystal moon. There was a woman on that.
He was shocked. He was stunned. He saw flying dragons playing on the clouds. He saw them bringing the water from the heaven to the earth.
He saw a giant running across the land. The giant drank the rivers when he got thirsty and rested by his walking stick, which grew into a giant tree.
In the tree, there were thousands of unnamed birds. They sang different stories with human voices. Most of the stories had already been forgotten. Most of the stories he had never heard.
They were far, far away and long, long time ago…
“You are Shan-Gui.” He called her name. “You are the goddess of the mountain.”
She smiled as usual.
And she talked.
“Several years ago, you took away something from me.” She spoke in fluent Chinese, which he could hardly understand. “Now it is time to return.”
She put her hand into his chest pocket, and took out something.
It was the tin box.
“It must be important.” He remembered what his father said.
She opened the box and poured it out.
There was nothing but black dirt.
The same color of the ground, where they stood on.
“It is just dirt.” He heard he said.
Shan-Gui looked at him surprisingly. She stared at him.
Then she smiled sadly as if she noticed something.
“You look alike.” She said. “But you are so different.”
He noticed he made a mistake. He wanted to say something to remedy, but it was too late.

All of a sudden, he found himself falling into a dark world.
It was night. It was quite.
He sat by the bonfire alone, but he felt so cold.
He returned to his world again. It was the world with no magic, no tales, and no memory.
He saw the tin box on the ground. He picked it up and looked into it.
But it was empty.
Suddenly, he felt so tired.
He closed his eyes.

He knew there would be no dreams tonight.  
I do not know who draw this, but I like this feeling. you can hardly tell how this goddess looks like.
She is no more than a concept.

第一篇試寫的英文短篇小說:The Ghost in the Mountain 1(山鬼)

如果是中文讀者的話,看到"山鬼"應該就知道這篇內容用的是什麼神話了吧。
If you are a Chinese speaker, you probably know which mystery this story is based on.
這是我第一次創作的英文故事,比中文要困難很多。
This is my first English story. Indeed, it is much more difficult than creating a Chinese one.
雖說是為了投稿UCLA Kurnitz Award寫的,但也算是我給自己的一個挑戰。
Although this is for UCLA Kurnitz Award, I see this as a challenge which I set up for my self too.
僅以此文獻給我的爺爺,一位二戰戰士,我們家族中第一個來美國留學的人。
I dedicate this story and its meaning to my grandfather, a WWⅡ warrior, the first person who went abroad study to the USA in my family.
順帶一題,以下的就只有英文,沒中文翻譯了,因為我很懶。
No translation! I am lazy!!!(??)
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There was the same woman in his dreams.
She was the most beautiful woman that he had even seen. She was, an Asian, just like him. Her hair was dark as night cloud, her lips were red as cherries, and her body was covered by unnamed plants.
She was there.
    He still remembered how his dreams started.
They started with an old trail in the mountain, a deep quite mountain. There were tall trees surrounded. He looked upon, but the green leaves cover above. He could barely see the sky.    
    She smiled.
    “Who are you?” He probably has asked, but there was no answer.
    He heard the whisper of gentle wind.
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    He could not remember when the first time they met in his dream was. Probably right after September 9th, the day he became a university student, the day he moved to west Los Angeles, and the seventh day after his grandfather passed away. The death of his family member made him more sentimental than usual, but he could not tell whether this change was owing to the sorrow, or the shock of death itself.  
    He could hardly know who his grandfather was.
    Of course, he knew something. He knew that his grandfather was a soldier, who served for air force. It was the late World War, while Chinese and Japanese were fighting fiercely in the far east battle field. A few years after people celebrated the victory of China, for some reasons that he would never know, his grandfather immigrated to the U.S.A.
His father said it was because of the Civil War in China. Many warriors, who were like his grandfather, got killed during that time. But his grandfather survived.
    However, he did not win his last war.
    That was a painful memory about grandfather’s last few days. Grandfather slept a lot. But sometimes, when he woke up, he called out people’s names and chatted with them as they were there. They were his family members, his friends, and his colleagues, who stayed in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and China. Grandfather was happy, so no one dared to remind him that those people had already gone.
At one night, he heard his grandfather singing. He sang softly. He sang quietly. He sang, just like the whisper of the gentle wind.
“It is time to return.” Grandfather sang.
    On the next day, he had gone.
    Grandfather died in his garden. No one knew the reason why he walked outside in the midnight. When they found him, he had something in his hand. It was a small tin box, which no one had ever seen.
    “It must be important.” His father said.
    But no one knew what was inside. The box was locked. There were no ways to open it.
He kept the box as a memory of his grandfather.
    The day after the funeral, she came into his dream.
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    “She must be a ghost.” His friend Sam guessed. “She was probably your grandfather’s friend.”
    “Perhaps.” He said. “But I do not understand. Why we always meet in the mountain?”
    “Maybe she lived in the mountain.” Sam shruged. “Or she died in that mountain.”
    He tried to find the clues about the ghost in the mountain. Frustratingly, neither encyclopedia nor Google helped. Most of the ghost stories he found were no more than dumb stories written in cheap novels, except one.
    That was an ancient Chinese tale.
    “…She is the ghost in the mountain. She is the forgotten goddess. She clads in the creeping vine and ivy. Her vision is gentle and her smile is charming…
    “Shan-Gui.” That was how people called her. That was her name.
    She was a beautiful goddess who waited in the mountain for her lover.
    He would rather believe she was the one in his dream.
    He never told his parents what he found. Actually, he did not even mention about the woman in his dreams. His parents were devout Christians. Both of them were active members of the community church. He could imagine what would happen if they know there was a ghost.
    “She is such a beautiful woman.” He explained to his friend. “I mean, you won’t feel creepy when she looks into your eyes. Her smile is so lovely and so real. It doesn’t look like imagination. It is like something comes from your old memory…”
    “You are nut.” Sam said.
When my grandfather was still alive, he said he was trained as a pilot in the USA during the end of WWⅡ.
He did not really join the anti-Japanese battle, but he did fly for the Civil War.
I am not sure whether I inherit this pilot spirit, but I do like to image what is above the sky.

2014年4月20日 星期日

4/21 我們該不該談政治?

最近因為太陽花運動的關係,讓許多教育界和文界的知名人士跳入戰場,發表自己的政治理念,更有教授級的學者表達自己的立場。有些甚至還變成考題XD(不引用了,請自行估狗李茂生教授的神奇考題)

跳脫那些鬼打牆的藍綠統獨問題,我今天想問的是:教育和藝術創作到底該不該牽涉政治?

在回答自己的問題以前,我想應該先稍微談一下政治的定義。"治理眾人之事"應該是個耳熟能詳的定義,不過我更喜歡以下這個:
“Education as a specifically human action has a “directive” vocation, that is, it addresses itself to dreams, ideals, utopias, objectives, to what I have been calling the “political” nature of education. In other words, the quality of being political is inherent in its essence.”
"教育是一種人類特有的行動,它是種具有引導性質的職業。也就是說,教育導向的是夢想,理念,理想世界,和某些目的。這就是我說的教育的"政治"本質。換言之,教育的本質就是政治性。"(出自保羅‧弗雷勒遺作"自由的教育" p.100)

在這個定義裡,什麼是政治?一切有關人與人間的不公平,不正義是政治,因此舉凡性別、種族和階級的差異都是政治。
什麼是政治?一切關於人類對美好社會的希望,對人類基本權力的追求,與對自由、民主、正義的理想,都是政治。
政治無所不在,因為這些就是存在於我們人類社會中每天經歷到的一切。我們會對社會的亂象感到傷心,會對自己受到不公平的對待感到憤怒,都是政治的一部分。因為我們的比較基準,和我們對世界的期待都指向一個目標:我們心目中的理想世界。

但是我們好像常聽到這些話:
"教育應該秉持中立原則,請不要在課堂上討論政治。"
"我的創作是純藝術,不要用色情或政治的眼光批評。"
這樣一來就很奇怪了,才說教育的本質是政治,現在又說不要碰政治,那教育的本質又是什麼東西?

有的人會說:啊,是因為對政治的定義不一樣啦。Freire的定義這麼廣,法律的政治定義是說不能碰敏感議題,當然不同囉。
是嗎?
因為我是教育所,所以還是從教學來看吧。
今天假設學生問我  "老師,太陽花學運到底在吵什麼?"
我的回答能不政治嗎?
我一旦回答就會有某個立場,而那個立場會基於我對理想社會的期待來決定。那麼我的回答不就一定有政治性了嗎?
要做到政治中立的無菌室,只有一個回答有可能:
"這個我不想談,來上課吧。"
"你們在學校裡學的都是知識,和政治無關。"

"我的作品是為藝術而藝術,沒有別的目的。"
聽起來很有異曲同工之妙吧?

今天是復活節,我和教會裡一位英語系大學部的同學談到教學的事。他是位拉丁裔美國人,他說他要用Hip-hop 為非裔和拉丁裔的學生進行文學教學。他希望他未來的學生能從這些政治反諷的創作中,抵抗社會的不公,挺身為弱勢族群發聲。
他不是第一個要用藝術對抗體系的人,但他的問題卻讓我深思了。

"你們台灣流行音樂沒有對社會的批評?那你們的流行音樂有什麼?"
我說,大概是愛情之類的。
我對自己的回答感到很震撼。因為同樣的問題可以繼續延伸:
"台灣的文壇不討論社會議題,不關心弱勢族群,那這麼這些文章都在寫些什麼?"
"台灣連社會科教學都不敢談論時事,連法律系都不敢碰政治議題,那學生怎麼知道要如何解析社會上發生的事?"
對此我只有一個推想,就是我們雖然已經走出歷史陰影,成為民主國家,但我們的民主素養還不足以導向自由。我們很怕被迫選邊站,很怕被某些族群歸類,所以我們就"為教育而教育,為藝術而藝術"全都搞傷春悲秋的後現代文學,全都搞藝術性很高但正常人完全讀不通文句的作品,全都關心自己遭遇有多悲慘,全都搞私小說去了(啊,得罪得罪。)

我們忘了什麼?
我們忘了文學與教育的力量來自對理想社會的期許。
我們忘了文學與教育的力量來自對社會正義的追求。
我們忘了只有人類本質與人類尊嚴超越藍綠統獨。然後我們以為吵贏藍或綠就好了,我們以為喊統一或獨立喊的很大聲,就可以改變我們沒有國際觀、沒有文化競爭力,虧待自己人民還沾沾自喜,目光短淺只看島內,對某些國家彎弓哈腰,對某些國家又種族歧視的事實
如果這些不是政治,還有什麼是政治?
Hammer美術館牆上標語"現在你們不該把對方搞瘋"
此展覽是60-70s一群藝術家透過作品對當代
性別,階級與種族歧視的批評(這次圖文終於有關了)