For the last sixteen years of my life I have rarely done something merely for fun. I have the habit of assigning “important” reasons behind everything I do in order to justify my actions; therefore, I rarely compose for entertainment outside school. Most of the time I write for communication. Email is the best method since you can always avoid the awkward moments on the phone conversations and track the written responses down in your mailbox. Diary writing, on the other hand, serves as a tool to release my emotions in the form of ink on paper. Sentiment in the form of chemicals inside the brain is hard to control, but it freezes on paper, which makes analyzing such a powerful force much more convenient. When I opened a new diary page just a few days ago, I suddenly realized that my writings have unconsciously shifted from fully Chinese to completely English as last six years went by. It is a scary experience to loose the ability to jot down the cubic characters effortlessly.
I am always more of a taker than giver in the world of literature. In order to have more control over my jumbled thoughts, I often memorize poems and passages. Reciting large chunks of literature makes me physically feel relaxed and confident. As for short fiction writing, I have started several times. Each time I was determined to keep writing until I produce a complete piece of fiction. However, after three days my enthusiasm often combust violently, leaving me bored yet again. After these numerous half hearted attempts, I now have much more respect for the authors, especially people like Leo Tolstoy, who had enough tenacity to finish their works.