I finally got my story finished and posted on BitterBuffalo.com. It’s a fictionalized account of how Mikhail Lermontov may have died, a buffalo his only intellectual friend. I actually tried three times; the first two attempts were just a tad too serious, so I threw them out. I tried to get all the themes of Russian romantic literature in there, such as nihilism, fatalism, and revolution, but didn’t write too much for fear of boring the reader.

When I went home a few months ago, I found a copy Soul Mountain at Chapters, which I had been looking for, ever since I found out about it. I’ve been reading as much as I can lately, whenever I have the time and the energy to concentrate on what Gao Xingjian is trying to narrate to me.

The thing that makes the autobiography interesting so far is that Xingjian was incorrectly diagnosed with fatal lung cancer, and after proper review, had been given a second chance on life. His outlook changes, and he begins to see everything around him very differently.

I’ve lately felt that, although I’ve never been threatened with any life-altering incidents, I’ve begun to see things differently as well. It’s as if I have nothing and everything to live for. That there would be no difference between dying tomorrow or in eight decades. It’s almost as if I’ve had my fair share of experiences, each one as important as the other in shaping who I am, good or bad, and that this is already sufficient for me to be satisfied with my life. Perhaps I feel this is true when I compare the amount that I’ve already learned with the infinite amount that is impossible to learn. After all, what is the purpose of life anyway? For me, it is to continually shape myself into a better person, whether it’s intelligence, or a better appreciation of music, or dexterity, or anything. And since there is no absolute goal I have to reach (or can reach), there is no way for me to fail, and death henceforth becomes meaningless.

When I tried to explain this to someone, he got confused, and thought that I was telling him about how I had experienced all there is to experience already. This couldn’t be further from the truth. There are a plethora of things I haven’t done, that I haven’t been through, and whenever I’m given the chance to actually experience one of these things, I feel as if I’ve gained more out of life.

Instead of seeing the act of living as crossing out items on a life-long “to do” list, I see it as writing down items on a “have done” list.

The greatest distinction for me between these two worldviews is that I can take my time in doing what I want, instead of feeling rushed to accomplish as much as I can before I die. Seeing life this way has certainly allowed me to be a much more relaxed, flexible, easy-going person, uninhibited by the fear of death. The good thing about this is that I didn’t have to fool myself into this view, simply because I was unsatisfied with my life. Somehow, this mindset shaped itself in my brain, and eventually manifested itself through my ever-continuing maturity.

It has made life meaningful and meaningless at the same time.

I’m now a member of the best table tennis club in Canada. The facilities are amazing, with excellent lighting, top notch tables, competition quality balls, and tons of room. The U-21 Canadian national team trains there, and I’m currently in a group of recreational players, such as the national team coaches, umpires, and past competitors. The lighting is so good that I can play for three hours and not have tired eyes. I can actually effectively counter-drive now with the amount of space available for maneuverability, which is generally the best part of my game as long as I can move far away enough from the table. After practices I’m left ravenously hungry, and generally sore all over.

Well, I ended up passing my bilingual test with an A, but a B was necessary for the job. The grading scale is backwards (that’s the Canadian government for you), so an E exemption is higher than a C is higher than a B is higher than an A is higher than an X fail. At least I now know that I’m officially bilingual, just not bilingual enough for most government positions.

Ever since I got my iPod, I’ve been a playlist listener, as opposed to an album listener like Nick. I had 10 main playlists, and each one would be for a different genre or mood, although I listened to my mood ones much more often, such as my bittersweet mix or angry mix. Now I’m find my moderate number of playlists to be insufficient. Often, when I step out into the intemperate sky which has been so dominant lately, I won’t be able to find an appropriate playlist. Nothing matches my moods now.

I think that my moods and emotions have become more subtle and diverse in the last year. It’s been harder to put my finger on how I’m feeling, because nothing is as base as a simple “sad” or “angry” anymore. I find that the flavours of my feelings have become more intricate and connected, not only because of simultaneous highs and lows, but also because of a greater application of dual-sidedness.

Sometimes it feels as if my emotions have evened out, that there is less range to the ups and downs. I’ve learned a great deal from the interesting set of situations I’ve been placed in over the last two years. This, combined with my zealousness for self-improvement, has allowed me to become a little stronger and a little wiser. Perhaps, in time, everything will even out. I’m just not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Because I’d probably cease to learn.