師生關係 (一)

不知道為甚麼,老師對於我來說,從來都是一種我會敬而遠之的人。
無論是中學的老師、大學的教授、樂器老師、
親和的老師、嚴厲的老師、好的老師、沒有那麼好的老師…
其實有些老師是對我很好的,很關心我,
只因為「老師」的身份,便令我不敢靠近,永遠保持一段距離。
我這樣說,實在有點無情。
但我只能坦白面對自己。
我經常害怕和老師說話的那種尷尬的感覺,
他們若果期望太多,我反而越想逃走。

有些同學則不同,
他們可以和老師「亦師亦友」,一起嘻笑,經常一起吃飯,
好像平輩一樣沒有隔幕。
有些同學甚至會視一些他們喜歡的老師為偶像,
為這些老師安上一些暱稱,例如雞雞、華華、笨笨、野野之類。
他們會留意老師每日的衣著打扮、言談舉止,
甚至經常在茶餘飯後,
在其它同學面前模仿某些老師的小動作,
也許他們覺得很趣怪可愛吧。
其它同學身為局外人,
通常都不太能感受到這些舉止有甚麼趣怪的地方,
但也只能對追星一族表示善意的贊同。
有些同學則更厲害,可以和老師們一起評論時事,
討論學術,作精神上的交流,那實在不是普通人容易做到的。
也許他們眼中並不著緊對方的地位,
所以並不會因為「老師」的身份而影響到日常交往。
他們只當老師是一般朋友對待。
而我心中太多世俗的框架了,
所以會因為對方老師的身份而卻步。

中學時已經不想和老師接近。
我的性格怕麻煩,怕老師詰問,也怕問問題好像煩著老師。
有不懂的東西,我寧願自己去查,自己去找答案。
因為經驗告訴我,老師經常答不了問題,而在耍太極、兜圈子。
與其浪費時間和口水,倒不如問同學還好。
那時已覺得原來老師不一定比學生聰明,
只是老師年紀比較大一點,資歷高一點。

學鋼琴、二胡、古琴等等樂器的時候,
是單對單上課的。遇著不同的老師,際遇也不同。
唯一相同之處是,老師總會是學生壓力的來源,
每次上課之前,我總會神經緊張,
怕練得不好沒有進步,怕老師不滿意。
每次上課時,老師總會指出其中種種不足,
鞭策學生要努力練習,做得更好。
下課後,一身鬆了,通常都不想立即練習,
而想逃避一下,遊玩一番來喘一口氣。
臨到下一次上課之前一兩天,又再緊張了,便又再加緊練習。
一個以演奏為目標的學生,
也許人生十幾二十年都要面對同樣的壓力。
但一旦離開了學院的環境,頭頂上再沒有老師,
這種練習壓力消失了,但自由卻不見得是光明一片。
因為再也沒有一個聲音告訴你甚麼是正確的演釋、
正確的練習方法,你得自己去找。

這種單對單的師生關係,
和學校裏一個老師對著一大班學生很不同。
師生關係很密切,有人在過程中感受到老師的關懷,
能和老師成為摯友。
也有人因為害怕老師、和老師發生磨擦,
以致終於把那樣樂器放棄。
更多的,是保持著一定的距離。
疏離的關係可能反而令彼此覺得自在。
學生希望從老師學到一些技能,
卻不喜歡老師的管束、不喜歡老師要自己依著他的方向走。
有時候,老師以為自己的教導對學生是重要的。
學生心目中,卻原來可能覺得老師的話是多餘的。

曾幾何時,老師是最受人尊敬的身份。
「天地君親師」,老師被放到和父母幾乎一樣重要的地位。
但今時今日,師生關係再不是以前那樣了。
很少會有學生跟著一個師父一生一世。
師父把一生的心血傳給徒弟,徒弟繼承了衣,
又把衣傳給下一代。
現代社會裏,師生關係似乎只是一種契約。
學生給錢,老師提供知識技術的傳授。
似乎是一種互相利用的關係。
一日課上完了,也是師生緣盡之時。
但是,師生關係只能是這樣嗎?
人情在哪裏呢?

差的老師經常是一般學生茶餘飯後的話題。
在平常課堂上、考試評核的時候,老師的權力至高無上。
但是,在課堂以外、在飯桌上、在走廊間的閒談裏,
權力就剛剛倒過來了。
差的老師,可以是所有同學的共同敵人,
同學們背後最喜歡恥笑老師出洋相,
責罵他們品格操守有問題,才能有限。
老師的笑柄成為同學們的共同話題,
是同學團結一致的動力。
在那一刻,老師才是最可憐的人物。

「尊師重道」是人人推崇的理想。
然而現實裏的潛規則卻不是這樣。

(未完,待續)

A Busy Month

最近兩個星期的搞作:

1.畢業典禮,和同學教授拍照,和家人拍照。幸好譚師兄也有來,Master of Music 不至於只有我一個。

2.搭巴士看見譚師兄在Roadshow賣維記牛奶廣告。

3.錯過了Gardiner 的音樂會,看到一個個同學的網上日記都對音樂會讚不絶口,後悔不己。

4.和DGS老師開會。進度緩慢。第一幕改完又改,但能發揮的空間不大。第二幕尚未開始。一月開始招選演員。現在還沒有景的設計、沒有和編舞見過面。陳導演正在忙碌於他的火之鳥,看來還沒有空。開會有點火藥味。希望能繼續合作愉快。

5.考LT。臨急抱佛腳。在考試前一日才請假全日練習。考試當日頗為疲倦,完全不在狀態,大炒。
Messiaen – Prelude “Chant d’extase paysage triste”, pedal 控制不好。
Szymanowski Etude No. 3, 中間忘記了一句,老作。
Mozart K.576 – 本來最差的一首,反而練習得多,還可以。
Ravel-Alborada del gracioso - 輪指好像跛腳的一樣。
以往從來沒有預時間預得這樣緊的,技術退步也罷了,
心態不能如幾年前那樣投入和集中精神才是真正的退步。

6.在西灣河吃了個超飽的晚餐,忍不住,要找廁所,唯有到電影資料館放下一些重量。順便看了樓上的千機變的展品和樓下的電影特技展覽。那些服裝、道具都設計得很漂亮。但是展品上沒有設計師的名字,只有「英皇集團捐贈」。看來出錢人是比設計師重要的。

7.星期四見官。只好臨急把半首「保衛黃河」拿給他看。過倒骨。

8.看見楊生又有音樂會了。拆紅記?三.三.四?
看來作曲家都越來越留心政治呢。
http://www.chineseflute.com/ensemble160105.htm

Fw:The Julliard Effect: Ten Years Later

A news forwarded by Michael Lee in
news://news.freeforum.org/music.classical/

THE NEW YORK TIMES
December 12, 2004

The Juilliard Effect: Ten Years Later
By DANIEL J. WAKIN

FOURTEEN years ago, Chad A. Alexander took his bassoon and headed east from a small California town, assumed a coveted place at the Juilliard School and began training for a job in one of the country’s great orchestras.

“Everything seemed possible,” he said recently. “Going to Juilliard makes you feel very special and privileged and in awe of the history of the school.” He graduated and quickly won a three-year position in the New World Symphony, a training orchestra based in Miami. But his career fizzled with a succession of fruitless auditions, dwindling freelance gigs and mounting debt.

He needed a day job. But a Juilliard degree had not prepared him for much besides playing. “When you go to a conservatory, something as specialized as that, you’re basically from a different planet,” he said. He cast a wide net, but the only outfit that offered him a job was an insurance company in Long Beach, N.Y., on Long Island. He played a few jobs in the evenings. But he was earning his living as a customer service representative.

Last May, Mr. Alexander finished out of the running in yet another audition, for the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, and saw his finances on a precipice. So in what he called a heartbreaking moment, he sold his bassoon for $5,300 to pay credit card bills. “It was time,” he said. “It got to the point where you’re just tired of being poor.” Now he lives in Phoenix and works as an
assistant underwriter.

Eric Crambes is another former resident of Planet Juilliard. A charming French violinist and a native of Lyon, Mr. Crambes studied at the Yehudi Menuhin School in Britain as a child and then with the teacher Tibor Vargas, living at his home in Switzerland. Ready for a change at 17, he broke away from Mr. Vargas and came to Juilliard.

Since graduating, he has moved smoothly into a flourishing career. He has forged a role as a fill-in concertmaster with respected European orchestras, and he commissions pieces, directs a music festival and plays as a soloist with dancers from the New York City Ballet. “I don’t want to label myself,” he said. “I have a very large spectrum of activities, and I like it that way.”

Both Mr. Alexander and Mr. Crambes graduated from Juilliard 10 years ago. Their stories suggest just two of the many varied paths that superlatively trained musicians can travel after leaving one of the world’s premier conservatories, which next year celebrates its 100th anniversary. To give a more comprehensive picture of those paths, Arts & Leisure took a close look at the Class of 1994, whose members are now solidly in their 30’s and mostly embarked on careers and family life.

The results suggest how hard it can be to live as a classical musician in a society that seems increasingly to be pushing classical music to the margins, even as Juilliard and scores of other music schools pour out batches of performers year after year. Orchestras and chamber ensembles are under increasing financial pressure as subscriptions have dropped and government arts financing has dried up, the recording industry has shrunk and the median age of classical audiences is not getting any younger.

Sometimes the struggle is just too much, and many drop out, perhaps disillusioned with a once-sacred endeavor that has come to seem a cold, unforgiving trade. Others, like Mr. Alexander, are simply sick of the financial grind: the low pay, the lack of benefits, the scramble for work. But many others make it, and what also came clear from the analysis of this class were the high levels of dedication many of the graduates maintain and the satisfactions and excitement of expressing oneself through one of the purest forms of communication: the making of music.

The class of 1994 includes Justine Flynn, a French-horn player who has battled alcoholism and, after bouncing from job to job in and out of music, now plans to become a tax preparer; Mark Inouye, a baseball-loving, happy-go-lucky trumpeter with the Houston Symphony; Gwen Appel, a clarinetist who gave up the grind of public-school teaching for a diamond grader’s job at Tiffany’s; and Ittai Shapira, an Israeli dynamo with a flourishing solo violin career.

They were among the 44 instrumentalists who graduated in 1994, excluding pianists, who generally follow a distinct career path of their own. Of those, 36 were traced. Eight could not be found; they have left little trace in Google and none at the Juilliard alumni office, all of which suggests that their involvement in music has also dwindled.

At least 12 are out of professional music performance. Eleven have full-time orchestra jobs. Another, a cellist, recently quit the Hong Kong Philharmonic to move back in with his parents in Dayton, Ohio, and audition for American orchestra jobs. Four are freelancers who survive by teaching; five more consider themselves full-time freelancers or chamber musicians; three consider themselves mainly soloists.

All of those now outside music have struggled to come to terms with their new identities. Surrender can be a wrenching adjustment for people who have lived their whole lives in the intimate embrace of an instrument and whose talent brought them glory at a young age.

LIKE many Juilliard graduates, Ms. Appel, the clarinetist, was burdened with debt after graduation: $28,000 in student loans. Then still using her maiden name, Santiago, she taught music in New York public schools to support herself and pay off her loans. (Juilliard’s tuition now runs $22,850 a year.) But the grind kept her from practicing. “I found it very depressing,” she said. “It really had nothing to do with what I was doing before.”

She quit her job, went back to practicing for auditions and married. But something had changed. “I didn’t have that drive anymore to practice four or five hours a day,” she said. Deep down, she knew that the chances of landing a good orchestra job were small. “I wasn’t in denial about it. Some people are. I see people struggling, close to 30. I just didn’t want to live that way.”

Answering a longstanding interest, Ms. Appel took a six-month diamond and gem appraisal course in 2001 and went to work at Tiffany’s as a diamond grader and saleswoman. (She is now on maternity leave.) She still plays as an amateur in chamber groups and community orchestras. And as with many of her classmates who quit professional playing but kept up with the instrument, the experience proved liberating. “The less stress I had with it, the better I sounded,” she said. “Sometimes it sounds better than when I was practicing four hours a day.”

The violin is an easier instrument than the clarinet to ride to stardom, and three of Ms. Appel’s violinist classmates have managed to do just that: Mr. Crambes; Nicholas Eanet, who is one of two concertmasters in the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra; and Mr. Shapira. What many of the Juilliard
class have learned over the last decade is that when it comes to making a career, talent is rarely the most important quality. It takes discipline, focus and energy – and connections, often formed at Juilliard.

“At Juilliard I met a lot of people that I still work with,” Mr. Crambes said. “It’s a very important part of our job, to have relations with people.” Relationships emerge not so much from class membership as from studying with the same teacher or playing in the same groups. Few of the members of the class of 1994 have kept in close touch, although a number were aware of what others were doing. Several reconnected recently after the suicide of a contemporary at Juilliard.

Mr. Shapira, represented by the International Management Group’s touring department in London, performs around the world, and he gave the premiere of a piece by Shulamit Ran at his Carnegie Hall debut last year. He has issued a dozen CD’s, produced concerts, toured with the jazz pianist Dick Hyman and started the Ilona Feher Foundation, which supports young Israeli violinists. “This is my passion,” he said.

As a student, Mr. Shapira said, he did not pay much attention to teachers who talked about a changing music world. “I practiced and did what I was told,” he added.

But he has learned.

“Just because you play really well,” he said, “that’s not enough. You need vision, you need persistence, you need passion for what you do, and you need to provide something unique.

“I’ve formed relationships with conductors and producers. We found out what we like to do with each other in a changing market. Rather than be the missing part of a puzzle, you can create a puzzle around you.”

Mr. Shapira, who still lives four blocks from Juilliard, credits the conservatory with giving him a solid musical foundation and a base of operations. For a few weeks every year, he plays with the group Concertante, which consists of Juilliard grads. “The key to enjoying what I do is the
focus that I thank Juilliard for,” he said, “but also variety, versatility.”

FOR many students, Juilliard was a rude awakening. They often arrived as minicelebrities in their musical communities, perhaps the winner of a local competition or the best player in town. And they joined a group of people just as accomplished, just as driven and often just as unprepared for the tough job market they would someday face.

“When you’re 12,” said Matthew Herren, an accomplished cellist who moved last year to Lawrence, Kan., where his partner got a job, “no one says, ‘You’re going to have to carry that thing on the B train to Queens to do some cash job for 75 bucks.’ ”

It was a hard fall for Ms. Flynn, the horn player, an engaging woman with an explosive laugh.

Ms. Flynn said she grew up with a young mother in a single-parent household and felt the burden of providing her with emotional support. “For me, music was my religion,” she said. “It was my reason for being. The rest of my life, I wasn’t so crazy about.”

“When I got accepted and was 18, it was sort of like a dream coming true,” she said of Juilliard. “I’m going to go there, and it’s going to be beautiful and wonderful.”

But she hated Juilliard from the start. “It was cold,” she said. “It was professional. That’s what it’s supposed to be. I was not ready for that.” Before, music had provided a sense of belonging to something greater than herself. “I got there,” she said, “and the message I received was, ‘It’s a business, kid.’ ”

The drugs and drinking came in the first two years there. Ms. Flynn took a year off and came back, more focused on the horn. After graduation, she went back to her original home in Portland, Ore., with hopes of working on a pilot arts program for public schools, knowing deep down that a real go at a career would have meant staying in New York. But she was searching for something else.

She described her questions at the time: “How can I be useful as a musician? What’s my purpose? What’s my point? I was very conflicted about being a classical musician.”

In the years since, Ms. Flynn has worked as a groundskeeper at an arboretum on Long Island, played fourth horn in the New Mexico Symphony, received a master’s degree in composition from Wesleyan University, composed, played horn and trumpet in bands, shaved her head, directed a choir in Albuquerque and most recently taught band and chorus at a school outside Phoenix.

Ms. Flynn, who said she became sober two and a half years ago, recently took a tax preparation class. “I got an A,” she said, laughing. “It shows I can do something else other than play the French horn.” Over Thanksgiving she moved back to Portland, where she said she had been warmly welcomed by old friends and was applying for jobs preparing returns.

“I feel my life is better than it’s ever been,” she said. “I have hope, hope in the sense I don’t have to be real specific what my life has to look like. I have an opportunity to live it.”

The sorts of questions Ms. Flynn asked about the relevance of music applied to many of her classmates, who sometimes wondered what point there was in playing the same war horses over and over, to what seemed to be inexorably aging audiences.

Some sought a way to make music more immediately and directly relevant to the world around them, like Rivka Gottlieb, a British harpist who was buffeted by a bitter custody battle and family illness before discovering music therapy as a career. She has just finished post-graduate training in using music in psychological counseling and teaching the disabled from the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London. “To be able use to music as a tool to help people – it’s something I had always dreamed of,” Ms. Gottlieb said.

ALANNA HONORÉ describes herself as one of those people who needed stability and a sure way to pay the rent after graduation. She taught viola students through her time at Juilliard, earned a public school teaching credential and now teaches 200 third, fourth and fifth graders in the Ossining, N.Y., school system. It is a job she clearly loves. Ms. Honoré, known as Alanna Wheatley at Juilliard before she married, still practices and plays community recitals.

“The way for me not to get bitter or depressed is to keep playing,” she said. “I had to create my own reality and performance venues. You get rejected and can’t take it personally. You have to create your own success and play for yourself primarily. Then it doesn’t matter if it’s not to someone’s liking.”

Juilliard’s uniquely high-pressure atmosphere, its fame and the brilliance of its teachers provoke contradictory feelings about the place from its offspring.

Some alumni complain that it failed to prepare them for orchestra playing or teaching, bread-and-butter work for musicians, or for the practical aspects of running a career; or that it squelched creativity and individuality. Still, many said that their Juilliard years were among the happiest of their lives, a time of intense musical development with beloved teachers and a source of lifelong musical collaborations.

Juilliard’s president, Joseph Polisi, said he was not surprised by the number of undergraduates who do not have performance careers. “They came in as 17- or 18-year-olds,” he said in an interview. “They’re very talented, they’re very focused, but at the same time they are becoming young adults and finding themselves in ways that may not have anything to do with music.” Yet he acknowledged the prime goal was to create excellent performers.

Over the last decade, the school has developed courses in how to shape careers or teach, but they are often electives. It requires at least one class a term in the humanities, which most students barely tolerate. At the same time, Juilliard has an obligation to create a “sense of excellence” by having a critical mass of students approaching professional level, Mr. Polisi said.

“We’re providing the curriculum, the tools and the experience to have a shot at this incredibly competitive profession,” he said. “But there is no guarantee.”

When asked how he expected a typical class to turn out, Mr. Polisi said, “I want them to be at peace with themselves and with whatever they are doing with their art.”

Mr. Inouye, the trumpeter, seems to have arrived at that point. Mr. Polisi recalled him as the young man who used to joke about turning Juilliard’s open spaces into a beach volleyball court. Mr. Inouye has a wry take on the laments of classical musicians. He tells this joke: “How do you get a musician to complain? Give him a job. How do you keep him complaining? Give him a better job.”

Some of those interviewed who travel from gig to gig like modern troubadors welcomed the variety but yearned for the stability of an orchestra. Orchestra players said they liked the stability but felt stifled.

Mr. Inouye defies his own joke. “When I get tired of music, it’ll be the end,” he said, “I love it. All I need is one person to inspire me or push me or find motivation from,” he said of orchestra playing.

Mr. Inouye arrived at Juilliard with valuable perspective. He had spent two years as a civil-engineering major at the University of California, Davis. “It exposed me to other people, other things, other backgrounds, other ways of thinking,” he said.

He is now playing principal trumpet in the Houston Symphony while on sabbatical from his permanent post as second trumpeter in the San Francisco Symphony. “I always said I wanted to get a job in a National League baseball city,” he said. “But the Giants! That’s the team I grew up with.”

In the end, maybe going to a conservatory is like being a compulsive gambler: It is one big bet, but the drive to study music is so blinding, and doing anything else so inconceivable, that young players are oblivious to the risk. Sometimes it is hard to determine whether they are driven by single-mindedness or they live in self-denial.

Once at Juilliard, they discover the inherent paradox of being a classical musician. You are called on to be expressive, imaginative, creative, somehow in touch with the mystical reaches of art, an individual. But you are also called on to ply a craft with exceeding skill, meshing a complex of minute physical activities in the service of black markings on a page and the composers who wrote them, often submerging yourself in the crowd. And you do it all with the purpose of making a living.

Inevitably, many will be disillusioned; some, enough so to leave the profession. But every one of those graduates has an indelible stamp.

“Even if my instrument was destroyed,” said Nora McInerney Fuentes, a violinist who works in public relations for Time-Warner, “the gifts that I was given and what I’ve done with them – no one can take them away from me.”

More on the Graduates

THE ORCHESTRAS THEY PLAY IN INCLUDE:
San Francisco Symphony
New Jersey Symphony
Taipei Symphony Orchestra
Singapore Symphony Orchestra
St. Luke’s Chamber Orchestra
Taiwan National Symphony Orchestra
Buffalo Philharmonic
Metropolitan Opera Orchestra
Netherlands Radio Symphony
Simón Bolivár Symphony Orchestra (Venezuela)

OCCUPATIONS OF THOSE NOT PERFORMING INCLUDE:
English teacher in Japan
Fitness trainer
Stay-at-home mother
Art museum bookkeeper
Software engineer
Music therapist
Saleswoman at Tiffany’s
Public relations assistant
Insurance underwriter
Public school string teacher
Network engineer for the Federal
Reserve Bank in San Francisco

Blair Tindall and Tom Torok contributed additional reporting for this
article.

南京 1937

看了「南京1937」。
很恐怖。實在難以想像戰難中的人怎樣生活。
人間煉獄,生不如死。

不少同學覺得譚盾在南京1937的音樂很感人。
確實是非常成功的電影音樂。
但是,若果拋開電影畫面,
音樂本身卻也顯得有點倉白。

在電影裏中國軍隊奮勇保衛南京。
但是,在現實裏原來中國人也一樣可怕:

http://sokamonline.com/NJ-Kill/NJ-KillC-Hist.cfm

“十一月二十日,日寇逼近南京,國民黨政府發表遷都重慶的通告
,南京陷入一片混亂。大大小小的官僚爭先恐后地逃離了南京,剩下
的是無依無靠的老百姓。”

“國民黨政府對這些彷徨無主的難民聽之任之,
倒是一些“熱心公益”的美、英外籍人士,建議在南京成立“國際委
員會”,划定一定的區域作為難民區。”

“當許多難民向中山北路、中央路移動時,最后逃出南京的一部分
國民黨官兵,蟻集在江岸上,未能脫險,此時深怕難民群妨礙他們,
所以把挹江門、和平門兩道城門緊閉起來,以便于他們搶渡逃生。”

“于是,馬路上的難民群,特別是中山北路、中央路和兩旁
街巷中的難民,就被日軍當作戰斗的目標,使用機槍、步槍和手槍,
瘋狂地射擊。南京大屠殺當即展開了。”

國民黨軍隊的作為令人髮指!
雖然背城一戰,最終也會慘敗。
但戰敗不可恥,被人凌辱也不可恥,這樣的行徑,才是真真正正的可恥。

Review: Man Of la Mancha

卻看了蔡錫昌導演的音樂劇”Man of la Mancha” ,
改編自唐吉訶德的故事。
http://www.tnt-theatre.com/index_03.htm (劇照?)
方梓勳翻譯、陳鈞潤填詞、盧厚敏編曲、白耀燦主演。
一大半是中大人。
原曲是Mitch Leigh 創作的,很Classical,很多兩重唱、三重唱的複雜對位。劇和曲都非常精采。
白耀燦唱歌和演戲俱佳。
填詞很好,押韻、字詞非常露字,不用看字幕也能聽到一大部份。
劇本身的故事很精采。
在演後座談會裏面,對於蔡生的改編既保留原著的西班牙背景,又要加插一些香港原素,有不少觀眾表示覺得奇怪。
「傻傻贛,攪攪豬」語帶雙關,
既好以指「瞓覺覺豬」,又可以是「x 交」、「豬」、
又可以是「贛鳩鳩」,
觀眾傳出一片淫笑聲。
不過也有觀眾不以為然,在座談會指斥其意識不良。

香港需要唐吉訶德精神?
香港有很多唐吉訶德?真的嗎?
「騎士精神」是很西方的東西。
假如要將故事本地化?
我們可以將它改編成「俠義精神」嗎?
或者「武士道精神」嗎?
一條中國文化或者世界歷史考試問題:
騎士、俠士、武士有甚麼異同呢?
請以歐洲、中國、日本文化比較之。(10分)

依然懶散

上星期搞作:

買了 Digidesign MBox (連 Protools software),
不過要 Windows XP 行駛,麻煩。

練琴,請佛哥指點。

找村屋租住,東奔西跑,
看了幾間,沒有合意的,只作罷了。
赤泥坪多數很舊。
大埔有些唐樓,一間單位間格做六間有獨立廁所的小房間,
小得除了床以外,甚麼也放不下。分租給六戶人家。
如果每間細房租兩千五百元,六間即是一萬五。
果然是資源增值的好策略。
遇上很多不同的業主、地產商。
看大埔唐樓的時候,想起一休的戲劇「七」:
業主為了方便租客睇樓,交給地產商一個單位的鑰匙。
地產商將單位當作自的私竇,用來開房…

*****

雁字回時排練,認識白sir 。
原來中大音樂系曾有不少QC 師兄。
我真是孤陋寡聞。

*****

錯過了演藝的「霓裳派對」,憾甚。

格式化

今天我心癮一起,
終於提起勁收拾整個房間的東西。
我向來是個沒有手尾的人。
所有書本、CD 從架上拿下來,
看完以後就放在地上,
從來不會放回原位。
眼看桌上、地板上的東西越來越多,
混亂到幾乎沒有立足之地,
終於令我忍不住要收拾。
維持規序是困難的,
需要無比決心和魄力。
狠下心腸,把所有書本拿出來重新排列,
作戰了一個上午,終於像個樣子。
但只怕好景不長,不出一個月又會打回原形。

我的電腦也是這樣,
最初也是很整齊的,
我把一個個文件分門別類放在不同的資料夾裏。
慢慢就懶惰了。朋友傳送過來一個個檔案、
在網上BT下來的一套套影片,到處亂放,
又不時安裝了一些不明來歷的程式,
電腦似乎負荷不住了,
開機關機越來越慢,
終有一天出現問題,
唯有格式化,重新安裝Windows。
這個過程永遠是慘痛的。
每一次總會浪費一整天去重新安裝所有程式,
而安裝過程中總會出現各種大大小小的問題,
令人七竅生烟。
之後另一個循環又重新開始。
每一次都是:
格式化->增添物件->越來越混亂->出現問題->格式化
怎樣才可以逃離這個圈套?
是不是因為我沒有手尾的習慣令維持秩序變得加倍困難呢?

我想起我的老闆。
我的老闆是個極度整齊的研究學者。
他的所有文件都是和桌邊平行或垂直擺放的,
從來不會有打斜擺放的。
每一次交給我一個工作指令,
即便是口頭吩咐過了,
總是白紙黑字寫在紙上或者電郵裏。
每一個指令都非常清晰,
在交給我之前,他已經清楚地將工作分成一個個步驟,
務求令我不會做錯。
我基本上是一台執行指令的機器,
不需要出主意和選擇決定工作方法,
他輸入了一些資料,
我就會按需要輸出一些圖表、譜例之類。
每一次有甚麼改正,
在應該更進的地方會貼上tag,
改正以後,我每次都要一絲不苟地紀錄更改了些甚麼,
一切都有跡可尋。
他每一份文件都會印一份作為備份,
更貼上標纖,分門別類,以便一找便可以找得到。
這是令我嘆為觀止的。
以我這種亂糟糟的人來說,
並不習慣這種整潔,
但是他卻有辦法令我可以製造出他要求的整潔的文件。
也不能不佩服他十年如一日有規律的生活習慣。
但這種整潔的習慣,我始終沒有學會,
沒能應用在生活裏面。
這是性格使然嗎?