It is now November 5th, Wednesday, a day worth celebrating. The past week or two has indeed been incredibly busy, and the original plans can now only be described as "unrecognizable."
Let’s rewind to mid-October, on my birthday, when a few colleagues and I had a big meal at Haidilao. I was prepared not to feel awkward, but when the music started and everyone put down their chopsticks to look around, I couldn't hold it together. The next day happened to be the weekend, and Bao made the effort to travel a long distance to celebrate my birthday with me, which was very happy and rare (possibly because birthdays only come once a year). Although it was just a short day, it felt particularly fulfilling starting from six in the morning. I thought I might try waking up early in the future, but not right now. We first had breakfast, then went to Baotong Temple to observe the cats and pigeons, and we happened to encounter a monk chanting (which reminded me of morning reading in high school). Neither of us had slept much the night before, and by this time, we were already feeling drowsy, so we took a short nap. The downside was that I felt uncomfortable in my stomach for almost half the day, and it wasn't until the afternoon that I felt better; I still don't know why. After waking up, we decided to go to WS Dream Times, which was actually a spur-of-the-moment decision without prior planning. Coincidentally, an ice cream shop had just opened, and we saw an interesting performance and tasted what was essentially free ice cream (1 RMB). There were also many shops selling various accessories, food, household items, and computer peripherals, which was a bit overwhelming. Finally, we discovered an indoor amusement park that we hadn't experienced before, and there was a birthday discount, but considering that neither of us was in a good physical state, we ultimately didn't go in; we will definitely come back to experience it later. After much hesitation for lunch, I chose omelet rice, feeling that my stomach should not protest anymore. In the evening, we returned to school and happened to encounter a concert. After eating at the newly opened Subway, we went to the venue to be part of the audience, and I didn't expect that this day would also achieve the life milestone of "watching a concert together." The car to send Bao back on Sunday wasn't that early, so I had a lovely sleep. When we parted, I watched her enter the station, her figure gradually disappearing into the crowd, and I realized she was so small, traveling across half a map to see me, and then returning alone with a big bag. I thought how nice it would be if there were no more goodbyes in the future. I turned back to school, not realizing that tears had already been blown away by the cold wind on the road.
After that, I was busy (or one could say complaining) until November. I planned to accompany Bao for her birthday, which was supposed to be today, but the arrangement of the big group meeting and the collective activities made it difficult for me to make a decision. Now I wonder if it would have been better to be braver; I'm not quite sure. My intention to accompany Bao is firm, and the best time to do this was in the past, and second best is now. Although it's a bit late, I think I should let go of some heavy burdens and take a spontaneous trip.
As you can see, this is a monthly journal, but a large portion is dedicated to describing the day of October 18th. Does this deviate from the meaning of "monthly journal," and should it be called a "diary"? I don't think so; for me, this is a monthly journal. Since I started writing in April 2021, this is the 54th entry by ordinal count, and conservatively estimating at 600 words per entry, the total has already exceeded thirty-two thousand. I suddenly understand why I am so persistent in recording; this is my memoir to myself. Those mundane days drowned in boredom, the time cut into fragments by deadlines, and the slowly forgotten shining days only become complete when written down. In a lifetime, grass grows in spring, coming like wind and rain, leaving like fine dust. In the end, it is just as it was when it came: with nothing left. If there is anything that can remain, it is only the words and memories.