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When writing this topic, I thought of the late night of June 5438+February 3, 20081. I slipped out of Waseda's apartment for foreign students wrapped in a white wool coat and walked along the path in front of the door until I reached the small Tibetan temple on the corner. The custom in Japan is to go to the shrine to worship and pray on June 65438+ 10/of the New Year. I'm alone in a foreign land, and I'm not going to join in the queue. When I was a child, I was short of material spirit, and my little expectations accumulated until the festival day. As I grow older, I have lost interest and novelty in this celebration. However, I still remember when I was in junior high school and high school, I would light a desk lamp every New Year's Eve and write myself a New Year's letter. "Dear me in the new year, ZhanXinAn. "The letter summed up last year's experience and lessons, and made suggestions for myself in the future. Maybe I can sum up the phased plan of 1234 ... when I close my diary, I feel as if the new year will really be different. People need a sense of ceremony. The sense of ceremony makes people live solemnly. Seriously, when I was in the first grade of junior high school, the "future plan" in my diary even included the words of being admitted to Harvard-only in the past so many years did I dare to announce my small ambitions with a smile. Planning this kind of thing, only those who believe in themselves and fate have the heart to do it. So I gradually gave up "1234", because I no longer believe in myself, or I don't believe that fate will treat me well? The new year atmosphere in a foreign country is not strong, but it suddenly interests me, although I don't know where I should go. Maybe I feel that even if I don't give any special expectations to 2009, I should at least respect this 2008 that is about to slip away from me. Maybe I just want to stand on the street and watch hundreds of people I have experienced get together day and night in colorful streets, and then suddenly disappear from the traffic in Tokyo. Just then, it suddenly began to snow. I looked up at the red night sky. The most fascinating thing about snow is that when I try to look up, I can't help but want to pursue their first traces-however, my eyes can't capture its long way from the sky, and all I can capture is the moment when it approaches me. Out of thin air, I teased my eyes under the street lamp and fell down all over in an instant. I will always remember that second. There are so many seconds in life, like falling snow, which are shaken off by us in the process of moving forward. Perhaps only one piece survives, turns into a water drop and falls on our hearts. I remember the moment when I looked up for traces of snowflakes. I even heard a voice in my heart say that you will remember this moment for no reason, but you will remember it anyway. It's a pity that the snow in Tokyo is always small, no matter how beautiful the artistic conception is, once I think of what my American roommate said, "It seems that God is scratching his scalp", I will smile sadly. I stopped along the path and walked from one orange street light aperture to another. Stray cats occasionally jump on people's courtyard walls, walk with me for a while, and then disappear quietly into the night. In this way, I walked to the small Tibetan temple on the corner. This small Tibetan temple can be seen everywhere in Japan. This is a wooden shrine, which enshrines a stone carving Tibetan decorated with red cloth strips. Of course, it is hard for me to believe that the stone that barely shows human form has been carved. I have never understood the local Japanese myths and legends and the worship rules of these Tibetan temples. I've always been a typical China person-I'd rather believe in gods, but I don't seem to believe so much. Piety means wanting something. However, during my study abroad, I often stop by when I pass by here. Imagine what changes have taken place in this governed and protected place in the eyes of this small crypt person in the past 1000 years. Hundreds of years ago, would a girl walking on the road stop to rest in the shade of a shrine? The big tree where she used to rest, somehow, rose from the ground to form a square tall building. The Dizang King Temple on the corner is at the intersection of the path and the road. I stood for a while, I didn't know what to do, but I began to feel guilty. I have been standing here furtively, will I be like a rogue teenager with ulterior motives? Suddenly a gentle voice came from behind me. I turned around, and a girl dressed as an office worker passed by the road, greeted me, pointed to the Diksitigarbha Temple, and asked me if I was a foreigner and wanted to write "draw a horse"-as she said, she went to a row of shelves in front of the shrine, which were covered with wishing wooden signs tied with red ribbons. Make a wish I haven't made in years. I bought such a fifteen-centimeter-square Xiao Mu card under her guidance. One side is used for writing, and the other side is painted with wind and waves. She smiled and said happy new year to me, and then disappeared at the crossroads. Let me look at' re alone. Where the palm is big, what should I write? I ran to read the cards written by other people on the bookshelf, and found that the wishes of the Japanese are not much different from those of us in China-I hope my wife and son will give birth safely, pray that the college entrance examination will be promoted to Tokyo University, and pray that God will give me a good job when I graduate soon ... Most of them can be realized through my own efforts. Writing on a card is both a prayer and a kind of self-encouragement. This wish just wants to tell the gods: I believe in myself, and I only hope that when I work hard enough, you can let fate treat me well. What about myself? Is there anything I really hope for and can work hard enough, but I don't know if fate can treat me well? Of these three points, I am most uncertain about the first two. What do I want? Do I really want to give everything for it? Will I be calm enough when fate is good to me? June 365438+February 3, 20081,I am 2 1 year old. I was born in the north, studied in Beijing and went to Tokyo as an exchange student. I study in a good school. I may become a financial or accounting practitioner or an office worker in the future. Without the primitive accumulation of the previous generation, I broke into the world of adults on my own, barely earned a house and a big city hukou for myself in the future, and had a small foothold to have children. While leaving many regrets, I am also glad that I have not missed any step of "normal life". In this way, one day, even if I can't be a rich or expensive person, I can at least make my parents proud, because their daughter has checked the main options on the life index checklist when talking to others. "Others" have long drawn the review range of life papers with secular eyes, so we try our best to answer questions in this question bank, and we will be worthy of our parents if we pass the exam. With this in mind, there is too much to write at present. My parents are healthy, my friends are safe, my lessons are improving, I found a good job, I married a rich man in Gao Shuai, I made a fortune, I traveled around the world ... On the surface, my wish is too common and sincere, just like everyone else, I don't want to occupy every inch of land, so it's too crowded to hold "painting horses". I just wish I could mark "see the back". But the moment I picked up the pen, I knew that none of this was what I wanted. I suddenly remembered Marianne. Marianne is not alone. It is not even a concrete reference, but in my mind, these three words are clearer than anything else. Marianne is a curse. In the fifth grade of primary school, there was a very irresponsible health care teacher in our school. She is too lazy to give lectures. Sometimes she will fool us students, move a chair to the podium and tell us some nonsense about the TV series and movies she watched yesterday, which makes the students in the class mad. But I think her story is terrible. Until one day, she finally finished her TV series similar to leggings. There is nothing to say. Suddenly, she asked if any students had seen interesting movies or stories and told them to the podium. I plucked up my courage and raised my hand. But I haven't talked about any movies and TV shows I've seen. I made up a story about a snow-white bird who predicted death and an old educated youth who had a heart attack. At that time, I was eleven years old. My grandfather taught me the words "old educated youth". He died of a heart attack. I don't even know which group of people the educated youth refers to. The story froze everyone. I don't know what the next sentence will be, but this behavior itself has fascinated me so far. The most fascinating thing in this world is people themselves. People always have stories. Everyone has a story. I am a storyteller, but I don't know what kind of story I will tell. I am good to myself first, and then to others. When the students in the audience were fascinated by me, I felt that I was the king of the world. Then the king of this world stepped down from the podium, returned to reality and became an unhappy child again. Smooth and clever on the surface, precocious and perverse in the heart, resisting their own living environment, but unable to escape, even the idea of escape is not clear. On the night of the story, I went to dinner with my parents. At the dinner table, adults continue to brag and gossip, and if they can't, they will pull the children out for longer. The TV in the hotel has been playing the third part of The Lion King, and I was fascinated by it. Pumbaa and Timon have been looking for their utopian paradise. They call it "Hakuna Matata" (Swahili, meaning carefree land). I saw a wild boar and a mongoose looking for their "Hakuna Matata" on TV. At the round table, a group of drunken adults were bragging and quarreling, trying to keep pace with wealth. Narrow vision and values are the land under my feet, which has grown a shade that covers the sun. Everyone is sitting in the shade to enjoy the cool, and they don't want to see the distance at all. At that moment, I suddenly felt that I must have such a spell myself. When neighbors are twittering about whose girl married to the director's house and bought a BMW, when relatives say that the greatest success in life is to earn more money and marry well, when I am a mountain king ... I must remember to keep saying this spell in my heart. This will be my border. I know that the standard of having money, a house and a car is not necessarily happiness, but also a good life for some people. But I am afraid that over time, these highly respected "good lives" of others will become my subconscious role models. My wings haven't grown yet, I can't fly; But what's really scary is that when my wings grow, I forget that I want to take off. So I need a spell, a spell that doesn't need to be complicated or understood by others, but as long as I keep reading, I won't lose my spell. I can't remember why I chose Marianne. I don't think it matters. Even after a long time, these three words are no longer loved by my grown-up aesthetics and have been engraved in my mind. I have a little woman in my heart who will never give up. Marianne, on the other hand, is what I want to be. It was just a vague shadow at first, and then it began to be flesh and blood. With my growth, these three words represent more and more rich connotations. Marianne is a little girl who can tell stories. Marianne is a distant place, a freedom, an infinite surprise and a future that will never be framed. In fact, I am ashamed to describe this "Marianne" to others, but I can easily mislead you. Looking back at the lines I just wrote above, I found that my description of the concept of Marianne was completely beside the point. But there's nothing I can do. I tried my best. She is not ready to be understood. She wants me to know myself. Happiness and sadness in life, persistence and giving up, every choice, I will meditate on these three words in my heart. She is a label printed in my heart. So please let me be Marianne. I want to be Marianne. ..... I stood in the snow facing the' re, coming back from the podium and the wine table from Class 11. Various words and emotions collide in my mind, but the pen did not hesitate to write this sentence. " Dear God: I will be Marianne. "I will be Marianne. I'm not asking you to help me. I only hope that when I peel off the desire of layers of packages, you can see my true ambition. You are a little Tibetan bodhisattva. You've been sitting here. You have seen tall buildings rise from the ground, buildings collapse, countless people's wish cards, various desires coming and going in the street above them, and their gathering and dispersion, gains and losses. You've seen too much. I want you to witness me. 65438+February 3, 20081passed like this. 65438+In February 2009, Hello, Old Times was first published. From 65438+February 2009 to 2065438+February 2002, I experienced several reprints and reprints, which also made me experience a lawsuit storm. And if you look carefully enough, you will find that the moment when I looked up at the snowflake on June 65438+February 3, 20081was also carefully taken out from the memory of 20 1 1 and put into the exotic article "Clear Water" in Hello, Old Times. 20 12 years, it once again appeared in front of you with a brand-new look. I never knew that a book would change my life in this way, but I think everything is logical. My little Marianne has been waiting for me for many years. Over the years, I have been blinded by other people's aura, trying to be an elite woman standing on 10 cm high heels and appearing on the new york Stock Exchange with her laptop, only to find that she is really not this material; I used to cry because of the ugliness and naked unfairness of the adult world. How I wish my father was Li Gang ... I have done many ridiculous things, and the detours I have taken have become detours. But no matter how to get there, Marianne is waiting for me at the end of the road. The process is more important than the result-countless people in the world can object to this sentence, athletes, college entrance examination students, negotiators, and attending doctors who race against death-but as an author, I love this sentence more than you can imagine. Do something wrong, go the wrong way, love the wrong person ... "Wrong" doesn't exist for me. For a storyteller, the process of life is the result. I used to be such a well-behaved person. Everything has to leave a back door, so I went to learn management that I don't like. Because the job was easy to find, I didn't burn my bridges to do what I liked when I was a teenager, because there was no guarantee. In this way, I became a boring person. For Marianne, this is "so wrong." "The last time I reprinted it, I wrote an postscript, which can be said to be given to all my friends who have suffered from paranoia. But this time, please allow me to selfishly send this messy postscript to myself. I know that as a novel writer, I have no talent and I don't work hard enough. But I know that I have taken the first step. Because of you, in the old days, I had a chance to be a storyteller again. I love life, understand others and listen to stories. I have never been so free and loved myself so much, because I am doing something that makes me happy. The fourth grade of primary school returned to the podium. Of course, my ambition doesn't stop there. But I believe that the world is so big, no matter how ambitious I am, it will certainly hold on. August Chang 'an 2065438+July 2002