Rise 青春崛起

這個星期以來，聽到最多的一個詞：青春。

周一的早晨，坐在電腦前敲下這些字。沒有辦公室，沒有工作。一切都是自由的樣子。

很久沒有這樣的時間，完完全全屬於我的時間。幾年前上學的時候，一個人坐在書桌前，緊靠著大窗戶，向外看出去是院子里的雜草。簡簡單單的可以整個上午都沉浸在自己的時間裡。那時候老爸的廠里對舊樓進行改造，新樓還沒有建好。我們一家三口租住在離老房子不遠的一棟年代有點久遠的小紅樓里。

一樓的卧室，打開後門去，是一個小院子。沒有人打理，稀疏的有幾隻竹子和雜草。小時候家裡養過小貓小狗，但是對於花花草草，從來沒有人侍弄過。院子沒有人打理，但是四季還是分明的。記得一年冬天，下雪，對於我們的小城，下雪還是少見的。那一年是厚厚，厚厚的雪，積了一層，早晨醒來打開門，小院子里滿地都是驚喜。我還記得，上完口語課回來，我騎著自行車一路回家，心心念念的是滿院子的雪。穿上毛茸茸的靴子，在上面踩上第一腳，第二腳，一串串的腳印。

上周，下班回家，突然心情鬱悶到極點。我不知道是不是每個人都有這樣的時候。是的，工作有時候讓你很有滿足感，很有成就。但是有些時候，我經常懷疑這樣的意義，為什麼我在同一個鬧鐘的時間點起床，在同一個辦公室里8個小時，然後回家。再重複循環，再重複循。Sales已經是很有挑戰的工作了吧，已經是每天處理不一樣的問題了吧，已經是在和不同的人打交道了吧，已經是可以去很多不同的地方吧，我告訴自己。但是，這好像還不夠，是什麼可以滿足內心真正的快樂呢？

一邊鬱悶著，一邊放著歌來聽，我慢慢好起來。以至於第二天早上，我帶著耳機走進公司，avoid every possible eye contact and small talk, 像個叛逆的中學生，心裡想著「I have my own beats」.

我們有個微信群，只有我們幾個人，每天嘰嘰喳喳的講著自己生活的故事，談男生，談心情，談工作，談how my work ruined my sex life. Oh, You won』t believe what are those topics. 但是，我在這看到了每個人的青春和掙扎。突然找到了，我缺的什麼，我缺了文學和文字。我缺了我的Margaret Atwood，Doris Lessing，我缺了看到everything I never told you 下面這段描寫小房子的牆上是怎麼留下她的腳趾印的時候，那種偷偷的喜悅。

He began to make small changes he thought she might like: he trimmed his hair; he bought a blue-striped Oxford shirt after she admired one on a passerby. (The cowlick, persistent, still stood up; years later, Nath and Hannah would inherit it, too.) One Saturday, at Marilyn』s suggestion, he bought two gallons of pale yellow paint, pushed the furniture to the middle of the apartment, and spread drop cloths across the parquet. As they brushed one section, then another, the room brightened like panes of sunlight stretching across the walls. When everything was painted, they opened all the windows and curled up on the bed in the center of the room. The apartment was so small that nothing was more than a few feet from the wall, but surrounded by his desk and chairs, the armchair and the dresser pressed close, he felt as if they were on an island, or afloat in the sea. With Marilyn tucked in the curve of his shoulder, he kissed her and her arms circled his neck, her body rose to meet his. Another tiny miracle, every time.

Later that afternoon, waking in the fading light, he noticed a tiny yellow blotch on the tip of Marilyn』s toe. After a moment of searching, he found a smudge on the wall near the end of the bed, where her foot had touched it as they made love: a dime-sized spot where the paint was blotted away. He said nothing to Marilyn, and when they pushed the furniture back into place that evening, the dresser concealed the smudge. Every time he looked at that dresser he was pleased, as if he could see through the pine drawers and his folded clothing straight to it, that mark her body had left in his space.

——Everything I Never Told You ,

Celeste Ng

工作又來了，就在我寫下這些文字的時候。工作有時候就像一個high demanding baby that drives you crazy.

但是，還是要干啊。

只能偶爾得空，做一下自己。

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