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“How do you study Philosophy?”

This is my questions after weeks of continuing headache.

Then I find this answer during hallucination.

“Just like how you eat an elephant. One bite at a time.”

“First, chew the language (English) slowly, because otherwise it is going to kill you.”

“Second, think like an actor, because following other people’s logic (mind) is exhausting, if not frustrating.”

“Third, smiling. You just won an Oscar”.

“Forth, wake up! You have a lot of homeworks to do!”

In a 2004 talk at the European Gradate School, Derrida again discusses “forgiveness” – for him “pure forgiveness” can only be given by a “singular, irreplaceable person” to another singularity (it cannot emanate from a government) and involves two possibilities: forgiving the person who wronged another or forgiving that person’s wrongful acts … pure forgiveness concerns our ability to forgive the other even when that individual has not repented, asked for forgiveness or acknowledged responsibility – Derrida calls this type of forgiveness “impossible” – but, the only forgiveness “worthy of the name” … customary (or conditional) forgiving, involving exchange – that the other, for example, acknowledges wrongdoing – is not true forgiveness … for Derrida, we must “forgive the unforgivable” – we have to allow the (that) “other” in me, not my usual self governed by reciprocity, to actually bestow proper forgiveness …http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuL6HlLSzyc

Am I forgiven for who I am?

Or what I did?

Do you know that one way to know the closeness of someone in relation to others is through tears?

Do you ever wonder why would you cry for someone, but not for others over the same thing?

Have you ever think of why someone can hurt you, but others just can’t, no mater how cruel they might be to you?

You know, you can only get hurt by someone you care so much.

And how special that someone means to you is measured by cry.

Can she/he bring you into tears?

You might hide your tears to some, but for others, you just couldn’t help it.

…

Why is it feel so hurt..

Distance. We all need distance.

Space.  We all need space.

Just like two words apart by space, which make them  readable and give meaning.

Like a distance we put between emotional rage and logical view?

After all, isn’t it space that contain our planet within?

I don’t like baby doll. So when my parent gave me that hard-case-baby-pink-doll with mechanical blink eyes and exasperating cry, I immediately put it away from my bed.  It smell bad. I don’t like plastic odor. I felt so upset that they bought me that toy. I thought they knew that I only want a teddy bear doll with soft skin or a little car toy than a rigid, smell, mechanical doll which isn’t hug able like that. I left that doll untouched for days, until one day its mechanical blinks and cry intrigued me. 

Why it can blink and cry like that? I flipped the doll up and down and pulled its pacifier ins and outs, over and over to let it blink and cry continuously. I wonder, where did the crying sound come from? I pulled the battery compartment at its back and found a transparent mini disc inside. Then with great wonder, I examined it and saw a soft-white track inside the disc. Could it be a tape trapped inside the disc? Daddy had a lot of cassettes and music came out of it. But where is the head? I know what tape player’s head looked like but there was none like it in the compartment. Or is it possible that the sound stored in all area of the disc? In this transparent area?? How? Is that possible? Where did it hide the sound? 

But the little me can’t find any satisfying answer to that. So I kept the mini disc with me wherever I go and admired its magic. A transparent mini disc that hides sound inside it.

“Hi Charlie, are you okay?” asked Tommy to his best friend who looked very sad. Charlie shook his head as he fiddled with a dog collar. He looked like he has been crying all day. Tommy immediately realized that something bad must have happened to Bolie. 

“Where is Bolie, Charlie?” 

Charlie pointed at a spot in the yard in front of him. It looked like a little grave. “He died last night” Charlie tried not to cry because he is a boy.

“Oh, no! Charlie…I’m so sorry….” He hugged his best friend’s shoulder and they cried together. Tommy knew that Bolie had been sick, but he always thought that he would soon recover and play together again with him and Charlie, chasing butterflies in his garden.

For a long moment they just sat and cried in front of Bolie’s grave, then they were both silent. 

“Will Bolie miss me as much as I miss him, Tommy?” suddenly Charlie asked. Tommy nodded. 

“Are there butterflies in heaven, Tommy?” Charlie asked again. “I don’t want him to be lonely up there”

“He won’t, Charlie, there will lots of butterflies there to play with” Tommy said. “Butterflies can fly as high as heaven above”. Charlie felt relieved, and now he smiled and looked up the sky. 

“He’ll be chasing them among the clouds, Tommy”

“Yes! And I think this time it would be harder for Bolie to catch them, because they can hide inside the clouds!”

“And Bolie would sink his face and legs inside the clouds”

“Yes! Yes! And the clouds would stick on his face and legs as he pulled them out! Like the detergent foam did to my mum whenever she washed our clothes!” added Tommy. 

“Oh, Tommy, the clouds can give him as much trouble as the butterflies!” Charlie said excitedly. He was not crying anymore. 

“Hahahahahahaha”, they both laughed.

Suddenly Charlie pulled a small disc out of his pocket. Its size was as small as his palm.

“Tommy, this magical disc keeps the bark of Bolie in it!” He showed Tommy the small disc. 

“Really? Wow, that is cool!”, “How does it do that, Charlie?”, asked Tommy.

“I don’t know how it could keep voices in it; daddy gave me the disc this morning. I will take this disc wherever I go.” He then smiled, and played the disc back. Then he lay down and closed his eyes. Tommy closed his eyes too, and they both listened to an episode of butterflies chasing on a Sunday morning. 

“Come on, Bolie! … Go get the butterfly!”

“whoof, whoof, whoof…!!” Bolie barked.