Sometimes I feel like living in another dimension which is parallel to the universe I am seeing now, and I also feel that the present life of mine is an ingenious joke that even the destiny itself could give no words but silence to it. My life, for example was expected to be an engineer whose expertise is generally highly regarded as prestigious as those who are admired, if not sincerely respected. Much to my folks’ dismay, I chose a thorny path apparently sharing neither light nor glories at its end. Why? Hemingway once wrote “A man is an instrument to his duty” . And I guess I am the type of man who has to maximize my every possibility to prove my existence to myself. Yet, the harshness I felt on my way keeps challenging my belief in what my mom opposed and what I feel compelled to do. Have I choose poorly? Have I not been faithful enough? Why must we be forced to choose---whether we like it or not? These questions according to my friends have made me older intrinsically than my appearance might suggest to anyone who doesn’t know me. I only hope whatever insofar has given me the strength to do what I chose to do could last a little bit longer so that before my time I might just be able to finish what I started at first place. I will see myself to the very end and hopefully be judged by history fairly. --

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