My nephew and me

I don't think I sound very motherly, but the idea of bearing a child never appeals to me.  Leo, my 5-months-old nephew perhaps could sense my lacking maternal instinct, and he screamed from the top of his lung when his nanny was away taking shower.  When I looked at him, I thought, ummm... what kind of good karma he must have done in his past lives to be born healthily, to a loving and well-to-do family, and being a guy.  He and I probably have known each other quite closely before too.

He can't talk yet so he communicates with gestures, and of course, by crying.  He cries when he's hungry, dirty or sleepy.  It is exhausting for me to watch him cry.  Babies weep with their whole bodies: their legs kicking, their arms throwing and their faces contorting.  I wonder, how many times have I gone through this process of growing up?  Learning everything from scratch: how to talk, how to walk, going to school, falling in love, falling out of love, dying, and making the same mistakes over and over.  It makes me all the more wanting to be gone forever.  Because of rebirths, doing bad deeds is not really worth it, if I have to pay for it eventually. 

By the way, I just realize how much the word "death" affects people.  Today, in my class, I was giving an example of the event that occurs with probability one, and I said, "For example, everyone will die for sure, so death occurs with probability one to everyone."  And I can feel them cringe.  To me, the idea of being gone from this current state of being is comforting.  Like dropping dead and not having to take care of anything anymore, in this realm, at least.

The nice thing about getting old is that I don't take myself so seriously.  I used to get quite irritated when friends don't return my calls.  Now, I'm like, OK, we get to talk when we get to talk.  Perhaps, despite of so little mindfulness during the day, I can get a glimpse of my own dark sides that I don't regard myself as highly.  Plus, it's stupid to upset oneself over such trivial matters. 

My close friend told me not to write one story about her on my blog.  I thought, why would you care? (But she's my reader.)  I'm not a celebrity, so it isn't like a whole bunch of people would read it.  At one time, I wanted to know who my readers are, but now, nooo...  I have more freedom when I don't think anyone reads it: being more like I talk to myself.  But I could feel that if someone continue to read it over some stretch of time, they'd probably know quite a lot about me, especially my idiosyncrasies (Just love how this word sounds).  It's nice and effective in a way; if anyone wants to know about me, I can just give them my resume and my blog URL.  Take-it-or-leave-it kind of deal.  But, in person, I'm so darn straightforward that I don't think reading my blog is necessary: What you see is what you get.