Happy Birthday to You

Happy Birthday to You

Happy Birthday Dear Brights

Happy Birthday to You~~~~~

 

[Please make the choir effect by yourself...]

 

And please don't mind the "BIB" internal joke

 

Forgot to mention in my last post, it was the same day when I got my passport and credit card, I was informed via email and phone by my bank - Bank of Ireland (a wee bit advertisement for them here) - that I won the lucky draw from its student adventage accounts holders to get 2 VIP tickets to this saturday night's Cinemagic Music outdoor concert in Belfast, as well as the access to the after-show party at Apartment Bar in city centre!

Wow, I never bought even one lottery ticket before and neither have been winner of any gambling game, but this time, really, I am the lucky one?!

 

The concert is part of the week-long Cinemagic Festival hosted by the city council and said to be very nice.  The best known band coming this year will be Journey South, a UK brother band rocketing on chart. More information is posted here:
http://www.cinemagic.org.uk/cinemagicmusic/

 

Not just that, yesterday I got a phone call again from the bank account manager that they arrange a photocall with Journey South for our winners on Saturday morning.  To take photos with the band...I must say I am a bit embarrassed for that because so far I had listened NONE of their songs and honestly I don't want to be in some pictures with the band as if I am a big fan.  But I'll go anyway.  The photo set will be at W5 in Odyssy Pavillion, (W5 is a big science museum which I fancy to go for a long time) and in W5 right now there is a BBC World Wildlife Photograph Competition Exhibition opened to public.  I 'll see if the handsome brothers are more attractive than the wildlife pictures then :-)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I broke down, out of no reason and all reasons.

 

Silence, unusual quietness, is often the start of my crash and collapse.

 

He sensed it.  Somehow strangely I did wish he hadn't, although usually when women were going through emotional fluctuation they subconsciously wished their men be sensible enough to notice and show caring.

 

I guess I was just afraid and unsure of how to explain and express myself once he asked and got ready to listen to me.

 

What's wrong with me, or just what indeed happened on me to pull me out of normal mood, that's exactly the question I couldn't even answer myself.

 

Just frustration, unnamed fear and endless why and what-ifs, all those things I felt necessary and proud to face and peel off from time to time inevitably at the same time tortured me and put me in despair where I all the time want to get out of.

 

I am a born dreamer, long ago we have recognised each other as and by being dreamer.  Dreams have driven me through thorny years and made them therefore meaningful and bearable; dreams also have harassed me in a way I occasionally doubted if I was just disturbed by illusions I took as truth.  Somehow here I am today, still a stubborn dreamer trekking towards warmth and light.

 

Honey dreams are our purpose of life, as you said, but don't let dreams take our life away.  Dreams are the goal that inspires us going on the way, but the goal itself is never as important as the way itself.  Know where the dreams are, then make out of it to get on the way.

 

Honey, you are no less a philosophical person as I am.  But you see how wonderful it is that we understand so naturally of our abstract languages, even both been spoken in our second language!

 

I lay in your arms and buried my face in your chest, sobbing as a child.  Honey I wet your shirt, and you said no worry that's why you had washed your other shirts.  At the moment none of us laughed for your joke, but sweetness in tears flooded over me like a joyful brook flowing through my field of heart.

 

Honey you said you were almost already sure you'd made a mistake for choosing to study mechanical engineering, you, someone so much into social sciences and such a free spirit full of creativity and sensitive in emotions as well as splendours in language.  But you just didn't see any other options therefore going for it.  You said you also had dreams and aspirations, but at the same time were very practical that you would take the route when there were not yet any visible paths towards your beautiful though ambiguous dreamed place.  Honey, I wouldn't say that I admire you, which sounded too awkward for people so dearly close, but you often had the magic to steal all the vocabulary and left only a few like "amazing", "unbelievable" or "gorgeous" in my mind for describing you.

 

My tears were salty and bitter.  Honey that's because the thought of our piece of history about being "us" in each other's life coming to a soon end was almost unbearably torturous and melancholy.  You see, being rational and conscious doesn't really help me, although maybe not to you, leading a better directed and secured life.  Instead, sometimes it so successfully deprived my chance of taking things easy and enjoying the real moment without intervention from the damned next day.

 

What will my tomorrow look like?  How do I wish it to be?  Honey, those are the questions only you yourself can answer, or not to answer at all.  My dearest, despite the fact it has always been, can you read my mind as well as you read my lips that somehow in my shapeless dream there is something I would love you to help contributing to and leading my wills and power to somewhere?  The direction is by no means fixed especially when talking about journey of lives, you know my dear, so naturally the participating force took our hands and indeed oriented our path like a magnet.

 

People are born unequal, I said to you.  Decision is not that easy to make, and harder to implement in the reality as a matter a fact than what you think and take for granted.

 

No, Honey, people are not born unequal, never ever born to be anything anybody, you were so asserted and responded me with your clear words and a deep look into my eyes.

 

Your eyes are blue, crystal blue, the colour of the lake in Swiss mountains covered by thick forests.  I won't forget this moment when you said your faithful no and your blue eyes melted the solid rock named sadness and pessimism in my heart.

 

Honey, dreamer, let's listen to a song together, you said, hand in pocket looking for your mp3 player.

 

Imagine?  I asked, but in fact I knew it wouldn't be a wrong name.  Honey, it's not just because I had good memories and remembered almost everything you once mentioned - you indeed quoted several sentences from the lyrics of Imagine days ago when we were talking about nationalism and I knew you loved it - but very truly because I could read your mind and we are so similar in nature that I would do the same thing at such a moment.

 

Music here comes; Joan Baez's calm but passionate voice rises as moon light spreading onto the skin of earth.

 

Imagine there's no heaven

It's easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

 Imagine all the people

Living for today

Ou ho ooh

 

Imagine there’s no country

It isn't hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

 Imagine all the people

Living life in peace

Ou ho ooh

 

You may say I am a dreamer

But I am not the only one

I hope some day you'll join us

And the world will be one

 

Imagine no possession

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

 Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world

Euh Hoo oh ho

 

You may say I am a dreamer

But I am not the only one

I hope some day you'll join us

And the world will live as one

 

 

Could any other words tell my dreams better than this?  Powerful is not all it's about that touches the bottom of our souls.  No religion, no illusion; No country, no nationalism; No grander cause, no prejudice; No the better, no authority; It’s all about sharing, peace and equality, all about what we are born to thirst for.  It's absolutely idealistic, but nothing about communism or not as many may too easily and quickly rush to the conclusion.  There are no practical and pragmatic dreams; after all, being aloft the rough reality is almost the ultimate purpose of holding a dream.  Keeping certain distance from the imperfection of existence is crucial for keeping the power of dreams.  Since distance is necessary, why not hold an idealistically better dream to bond us together and speak it aloud to make it heard by more?

 

You were singing with her, lips on my earlobe.  I felt your warm breath, your murmuring, and your heartbeats.

 

Honey, my silent sobbing ate my voice and short breaths killed my singing, but my tears floating down my face were accompanying each and every word of yours.

 

"I am not the only one... some day they'll join us"

 

"Honey, they will join us."  That's what you said by my ear then and there.  My dear, that short assertion will be with me for lifetime, and believe me or not, it's the most romantic statement I have ever heard.  It's the grandest love and faith in full strength.  It's our religion.

 

Honey, they will join us, join these two hearts singing in their tightest hug, however for nothing about lovers' intimacy, but the closeness of dreams.

Having been busy these days with lots of things... World Cup is one of them...

 

Just take minutes from office lunch break to leave few lines here, also giving my best wishes of good luck to my dear friends who will have their big exam tomorrow.  It's gonna be an intense day and I know you must be under certain degree of pressure, but take it easy honey, just be yourself and that's absolutely enough to bring you wherever you wish to achieve.

Saturday hiking to Cave Hill was so much funnier than my expectation.  Indeed there were way more consequences that just burst into flame and immediately took over the life norms, way much more overwhelming and faster than my mind and brain can explain.

 

But whatever, perhaps just as I was told, life feels surreal sometimes and even if so too much self-questioning wouldn't help solve the puzzels that we are blown in; therefore take it and follow it as it goes, and we will be shown the destination at the end anyway.

 

P.S.  Michael and I agreed that Cave Hill should indeed be named Hole Hill as those two tiny hole on the cliff just hardly fall into our concept of any caves at all.

Pink

"Dear Mr. President"
(feat. Indigo Girls)
http://www.radionewsamer ica.com/media/kynd/president.mp3

Dear Mr. President
Come take a walk with me
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep
What do you feel when you look in the mirror
Are you proud

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why

Dear Mr. President
Were you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
How can you say
No child is left behind
We're not dumb and we're not blind
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye

Let me tell you bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night
How do you walk with your head held high
Dear Mr. President
You'd never take a walk with me
Would you

[Lyrics triumph! Pink's voice is perfect for interpreting this powerful and thoughtful song too.]

 

 

Sheryl Crow & Sting

Always On Your Side

 

[Sheryl]My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away
But every now and then you come to mind
Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game
But when your name was called, you found a place to hide
When you knew that I was always on your side

[Sting]Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent
My demons and my angels reappeared
Leavin' only traces of the man you thought you'd be
Too afraid to hear the words I'd always feared
Leavin' you with only questions of these years

[Both]Is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
[Sheryl]Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
[Both]This isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be

[Sheryl]Well they say that love is in the air, but never is it clear,
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, and so they fly away
[Both]And I'm left to carry on and wonder why
Even through it all, I'm always on your side

But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
[Sting]Or are we left to wonder, all alone, eternally
[Both]But is this how it's really meant to be
No is it how it's really meant to be

[Sting]Well they say that love is in the air,
[Sheryl] never is it clear
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away
Leavin' me to carry on and wonder why
[Sting]Was it you that kept me wondering through this life
When you know that I was always
[both]On your side

 

[It doesn't really need anything more than Sheryl Crow and Sting coming together to sing a love song to melt your heart.]

 

 

Sandi Thom

I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker

Chorus
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In 77 and 69 revolution was in the air
I was born too late to a world that doesn’t care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair

When the head of state didn’t play guitar,
Not everybody drove a car,
When music really mattered and radio was king,
When accountants didn’t have control
And the media couldn’t buy your soul
And computers were still scary and we didn’t know everything

Chorus

When popstars still remained a myth
And ignorance could still be bliss
And when God Save the Queen she turned a whiter shade of pale
When my mom and dad were in their teen
and anarchy was still a dream
and the only way to stay in touch was a letter in the mail

Chorus

When record shops were on top
and vinyl was all that they stocked
and the super ********* was still drifting out in space
kids were wearing hand me downs,
and playing games meant kick arounds
and footballers still had long hair and dirt across their face

Chorus

I was born too late to a world that doesn’t care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair 

 

[Oh her voice!  You can't even notice if there are music at the background at all, the singer makes a solo masterpiece.]

The first thing I was asked to do today after arriving in the office was, surprisingly, to try on the company uniform which from next Monday we will be required to wear every day!

 

Lying in the Debenham bag under my desk were black jacket and pants suit with white stretchy shirt, typical formal office outfit, brand-new with hangers and labels.

 

I tried them on immediately, the shirt fit perfectly well, especially around my waist.  Oh I was so happy for that - you should know how hard it is to find any top that can actually show my waist line in the shopping centres in city!  But the suit, just as expected, despite the chosen brand was called "petite", was just too "accommodating" for my body.  The image in the mirror was inevitably quite funny, and the size-8 pants provided suitable length but at least 2-inch bigger waist size (I could almost put it on without removing the buttons!).

 

Certainly I gotta ask for our kind Michelle to change for a smaller size, and as far as I can see my suit will have no "recycling value" at all because obviously nobody else can possibly fit into it!

 

But I am just happy for the uniform idea.  At least now I finally know exactly that size-8 outfit won't fit me at all but size-6 will do perfectly.  Indeed it further confirms that my effort of looking for nice cut dresses from non-designer's store here will mostly end hopelessly... Whatsoever, I don't have to worry about what to wear every weekday morning now, great!

 

New things in office today are not just the uniform in bag.  On my desk there are two photo frames now, with the happy faces of Krista's children.  Krista has been working as credit controller in this company for years and during her maternity leave from last November till last week several persons had been recruited on temporary basis to cover her post, and I am one among them.  What's different about me is that due to the rapid business expansion of our company recently, the financial director and controller decided to make this post a full-time job rather than the previous 20-hour per week kind.  As Krista has no intension to extent her working hours in the sacrifice of taking care of her newly-born baby, extension of my contract to share a working shift with Krista became the natural choice.  So here we are, Tuesday yesterday was Krista's first working day back from leave and I was instead enjoying a relaxing morning in bed and sheet.  So now I am working on the shared desk, to the left side of which is a photo of her two elder children, one boy and one girl both in primary school suits - with cute ties! - to the right is a close look of her newly born baby  in funny red baby shirt, staring at the camera with all the surprise and amazement to the whole world.  Cute cute cute!  I can't help looking at the photos every once in a while and even making a face in response to the staring baby face. Hey sweetheart, don't be frightened by the boring job in front of black computer desktop!  There are a lot more fun for you than this huge heavy machine out of your small frame!

 

We are doing the same job on the same desk, but somehow I am looking up to Krista's life.  She earns more than I do, fair and unfair, but more importantly her putting her angels' photos on desk top at the first day back in office, this all granted and deserved gesture is the thing I want the most to possess as she has already.

Jo is a brilliant person.  I can't find a proper word to describe Jo and hesitantly went for "brilliant" though I know it's far from the accurate one.

 

Jo comes from Antwerp, Belgium, works on a youth development project in Belfast now.  The job is exactly what I dream of for myself, spending time with children, teenagers mostly, using various defined or undefined skills to open their eyes and minds, choosing one particular goal such as Jo's journalist training programme as the break point of project but actually going much far beyond the specific skills or approaches to develop during the process in a very general but fundamental way.

 

But Jo's job is not at all what's fascinating about this person.

 

Jo speaks fluent English, in my point of view very native indeed.  Jo can do standard Oxford English, interesting Scotish accent and of course typical Belfast English accent too.  Jo's native language is Dutch, which as I was told there are in total around 30 million people in the whold world speak as first language.  Jo speaks French with Florian, the French flatmate, and discusses French arts and philosophy in Flo's mother language with him.  German is not a problem for Jo as well at well; considering how close Jo's study, work and life are connected with philosophy, knowing German would be a great help.

 

Jo had four years university in Antwerp (which seems to be spelled as Antewanpen in their own language), having two very "heavy" degrees in that hard-working four years.  One was in English-Dutch-Language and Philosophy, which Jo explained to me that it actually covers everything related to history, philosophy, arts, literature in the classics documented in English or Dutch language.  Not hard to imagine then how much their degree has require them to read and study.  Pretty much like our Chinese college freshmen year, which however I must say is simply uncomparable in the quality and meaningfulness to Jo's university experience, Jo was devoted into highly pressuring academic schedule with 36 or even more than 40 contact hours per week plus tons of reading list to complete aside from classroom hours, for all four years.  Needless to say how much they have actually read.  Jo told us of one particular haunting memory about one book by a German writer.  They were all made to finish the line-by-line reading for a class study within 2 weeks - of that book with 1879 pages!

 

I totally believe Jo has not exaggerated the heaviness of their academic study standard in university at all, because from the way Jo talked and the things those talking was about, nobody would have even a tiny doubt of Jo's unbelievable broad reading experiences in those areas.  Jo read as a thinker needs not just as a college graduate is required.

 

The other degree Jo holds is women's study.  It's a coincidence that I am right now reading Toril Moi's book, Simone De Beauvoir: The Making of An Intelligent Woman, and a few other interesting essays about feminism, not out of my coursework requirement at all, purely personal interest because I used to read Simone De Beauvoir's L'Amerique Au Jour Le Jour and from then on Beauvoir was put on my favourite writer's list.  Thanks to this coincidence that I had a tiny chance to start a sense-making conversation with Jo, barely being able to call a discussion as Jo's expertice is in a way much higher position in this topic than my knowledge at the mere starting point.  Me in the couch, Flo in sofa, Jo actually lectured us on the Bible of feminism, The Second Sex by Simone De Beauvoir, and from where extented to Simone's personal history, her exsistentialism development and interesting relation with the feminism movement, other significant characters in feminism movement, etc.  Jo's extensive reading exposure, as superb as it is, is still far less impressive than the passions that kept exploding and radiating all around during the whole talking and discussion.

 

Jo smokes, heavily.  During the four hours we talked and listened to music, Jo rolled tabacco leaves in a tidy piece of paper and filter tip at the end, put it between lips, burnt with match, then puff away white light smoky air in the most natural manner between all the passionate words that never cease came out of mouth.  A sophisticated procedure of Jo that last for the whole night.  I didn't really count, but I can safely say that at least 7 self-made cigarette sticks died in the ashtray that night.

 

I was surprised to realise that I didn't feel repelled by Jo's being a heavy smoker this time... in fact the first time in my life ever.  I still don't like the idea of being a smoker or the behaviour of smoking, but I don't mind Jo being a smoker and accept the image of Jo's as a smoker to be completely honest.  To some extent, I was even pleased to relate Jo with a burning self-made cigarette, as if Jo is supposed to be in this way, as if such a figure in puff perfectly interprete Jo's character and personality, the idea of which oh my goodness for over 20 years I had been confidently rejecting and resisting against because I never agreed with the symbolisation of harmful things like cigarette for the sake of some so-called personality or generation icons, because what I believed in was that virtues - as in a heathy way - and personality don't contradict with each other and there is no need to sacrafice either for the preservation of the other.  However in front of Jo, for the first time, the "moral stone" seems to be rocked.  It's a strange thing for me.  I guess the answer to this puzzle might be answered at a later stage anyway.  How much late, yet no answer.

 

Jo's favourite singer is Tom Waits.  Jo played the songs of Tom Waits and the expression on Jo's face was the perfect interpretation of enthusiasm and empathy that I would never forget.

 

As Tom Waits is, Jo is proud to declare as being a strong believer of socialism.  Upon the reminder from myself of China's self-claim of being a socialistic country, Jo made annotation to the term as original European socialism, where they devote life calling for and contributing to the human equality, equity and elimination of social classes.

 

Jo loves Belgium, proud of Belgium's culture and food, especially small-scale family business industry of beer and chocolate. "Switzerland may possibly be called having a chocolate specialty as we do, Germany can't!"  "Beer is absolutely part of our culture.  When we say we are in love with something or somebody, we even say it's in the shape of a bottle of De Dolle (Jo's favourite kind of Belgian beer)!"  We found our cultural similarity between wedding in China and Belgium interestingly, the essence of both are about food, no, feast! Absolutely indulgence in joys of food!  From wedding we also talked about the evolution of marriage in our countries from what we heard, knew and saw.  Inevitably the topic was quickly linked with Jo's academic proficiency in women's study and particularly focuses on the women's perception about and role in the choices of marriage.  Sophisticated topic, but very witty and interesting.

 

"F*cking" stuff is almost part of Jo's language.  I was a little unaccustomed to that at the beginning, but very quickly got used to it and even accepted it very well.  The difference of Jo and others with unpleasant bad speaking manner is that, Jo does not use f-word as simply a habit which melt into sentences unconsciously, but instead Jo says it when means it, so appropriately in expressing the emotion and making the point that it is very convincing to the audiance that no other interjection or adjective can be a good substitute at that circumstance at all.  The only explanation for the high frequency of f-word in Jo's talking is simply Jo's excessive power and passion in speech in the well-thought and selected topics compared to normal people.

 

Jo is young.  I didn't ask the age question, but from what we talked about our experiences, I highly suspect Jo's at my same age or even a bit younger.  Ohh, it's too overwhelming to meet so many brilliant young persons in so short a period of time that simply makes me feel myself never been so pitifully old.

 

Jo is a woman, the word Jo would not prefer to mention about herself, which is also the reason I withheld my intention to use any word like she, her, hers in the above.  Knowing and being a feminist, Jo doesn't consider herself being obliged to conform any social sexual role sterotypes, nor does Jo see any necessity of reminding people of her being a her not him.  It's a f*cking bullshit to claim a different position from men by declaring ourselves being a woman, if not the tragically historically-culturally inherited submissive and inferior one, then why bother to do so?  I do believe Jo assents to such a logic of many feminists; therefore I respect her style in my writing about her style.

I had Sachin reading my palm today, who as claimed by himself is very experienced in palmistry, quite some years in India.

 

Certainly nobody would take palmistry too seriously but mainly for fun.  Meanwhile somehow Sachin did his job better than my expectation.  Something he read of and told me, even most of what he had said about my life so far as it had happened, were surprisingly accurate.

 

I only leave some keypoints below as a memorandum.  Perhaps years later should I look back at this journal, I would feel something different and special.

 

//Isadora...

 

has way more lines in the area between the base of fingers and the upmost line on her right palm than any other people ever read, which is very unusual.  This area indicates that Isadora has a lot more thoughts on sophisticated, abstract and significant issues in life and world than most of people, and is a thinker kind of person; (interestingly he had no idea of my Chinese name or its original meaning at all... seems my parents chose a name perfectly matches  my palm fate.)

 

has a big chance of dying at a comparatively early stage of life, an obvious broken "life line" indicates serious intervention in life, can be health problem or accidents; but once the "block" is overcome and the moment is gone through, life goes long and stably as the "life line" extends smoothly; (Not only one person read my palm before and told me my life tends to be relatively short; however I sincerely wish the "health problem" Sachin prodicted in fact referred to what had already happened on me in the last one or two months, which means I have already gone through it...)

 

has a very complicated, rich but twisting life which can be seen from her unusually complex and rich line patters on palm;

 

will travel a lot, to many places around the world in her life;

 

does not have very positive perspective on personal finance, and may be entangled in financial difficulty from time to time throughout her life; (that's sad expectaion though, but at least I appreciate his honesty to tell people something obviously less wanted. :-)

 

has in her mind the man she likes for times, before she finds the last man she gets married with; but she doesn't have many names on her "like" list because she doesn't get out of one episode of affection story easily and takes quite some time to start the next one; (very universal truth about everybody like someone before they get married, but the description of my personal "attributes" is indeed correct, at least as compared with my own diagnosis.)

 

is well balanced between the extent of being ambitious and being practical;

 

is a very creative person, as opposed to someone more suitable for office routine jobs; (oh dear, I have been doing office routine jobs for long... will there be a big moment coming to rescue me? There must be!)

 

is not a very optimistic person in general attitude toward personal life and the world, which is seen from her inclined "heart line";

 

shall be strong enough to prepare for an uneasy life during her persistent pursue of many of her dreams; sadly most of her misfortunes are like that, she lost everything she passionately after and obtains often at just the last stage of the journey - being so close to the final success and happiness but losing it all of a sudden; (Gosh, this is pretty much what I felt having happened on me and what I most fear of.  He dared to tell!)

 

will get married a bit late, especially compared to the traditional norm of the society, reasonably her marriage can be expected to happen at the age around 28 or around 30; (ooh that's not good enough, that will make one of my very important plan difficult to realise...)

 

will have two children; (fair enough, though not perfect yet. :-D  but does that mean I may not have my baby in China?)

 

ties knot with her other half a bit late, but once her marriage begins, it lasts really long, life-time long; (I love this!  I am not a fan of divorcee trend at all and neither have any interested in dealing with divorce laws or lawyers.)

 

is very devoted and dedicated to her husband and marriage; in some senses she is not a very independent woman when talking about lives of two, basically her life is his life and his life is also hers; (really?... then there must be a delicate balance between independence and reliance, otherwise... umh, I know this would be a question difficult for some men to consider.)

 

will have an unusal marriage, which will bring her life a tremendous change; no comment about whether the change directs to a better way or worse, (palm reader trying not to be judgemental?) but undoubtedly the change impacts wide and deep.  Some people marry their similar kinds, to whom marriage means combination of two similar life track into one, but Isadora is totally nobody among them. (Geez, am I going to meet a man from Mars and live on a new planet with him during our life-time sustaining marriage? - that will be tremendous change indeed!)

 

 

Ehh, that's all I can remember now.  How much of them are simply jokes I don't know right now.  Maybe years later I will be able to say the percentage of truth among absurdity.

 

 

 

Not yet all.