Sunday, September 25, 2011
我對不起我
田馥甄在專輯內所攢寫:
"要選擇活在黑暗中
還是死在光明下？
膽小鬼 膽小得自愛 自愛得太膽小
在兩者當中怯懦的選擇太久
什麼也沒選到
什麼也不敢選
最後沒死過 但 也沒真的活過..."
我對不起我
詞：林夕
我給你的你用不著了
你也失去該有的快樂
付出的溫柔再不屬於我
你無福消受誰應該難過
沒事了 沒事嗎 堅強得太寂寞
腦袋空空 難道是我要的結果
愛給了我什麼 沒沉淪就超脫
愛不能傷害我 還是我沒愛過
我沒做錯什麼 卻把一切錯過
你是愛不起我 我也對不起我
不敢看你就嘗試看破
別讓傷口有機會發作
為小說劇情而驚心動魄
好證明淚腺還沒有萎縮
沒事了 沒事嗎 自愛得太寂寞
一身清白 難道是我要的結果
愛給了我什麼 沒沉淪就超脫
愛不能傷害我 還是我沒愛過
我沒做錯什麼 卻把一切錯過
你是愛不起我 我也對不起我
愛偷走我什麼 沒損失更失落
愛不能傷害我 是福氣還是禍
我沒膽量犯錯 才把一切錯過
你沒能留住我 我卻對不住我
----
这应该是我的心声。“错过”与“受伤”一直是我所害怕的。于是，我的心不送人，没机会受伤，也没机会真心爱过。林夕大师又一次的神来之笔。
李雨寰一直是我喜欢的音乐人, 这歌的编曲跟《狂恋》一样迂回荡漾, very haunting。
The Passing of Ah Ma
I've always wondered how I would react to my paternal grandma's death. She's been immobile and senile for years. For the last 6 years or so, she's been well.... existing.
When she was well, she wasn't the most loving grandma. There was a missing maternal side to her. She was mostly critical, offensive, sarcastic in most of the things she said. Living with her, there were plenty of opportunities to bear the brunt of her evil tongue. She didn't like my maternal relatives and did little to hide that dislike. She wasn't extremely kind to my mother and saw her as a competitor for my dad's affection, who matured from a meek daughter-in-law, to one who dared to speak her mind, over the years.
But did she love us? Yes she did, in her awkward way of cooking unsavoury dishes when cooking wasn't her strength; in her way of attempting to speak to us in Mandarin which wasn't her strength; in her way of throwing allowances to us, because the act of giving wasn't something she'd naturally do.
I remember myself as a three-year-old, propped up on the shop counter by my grandparents. And my grandma would ask me the same line every other day -- “大小姐，你好吗？” And I would reply resoundingly with a “好！”
I cried as I watch my grandma die slowly on 11th Sep 2011, ten years after 911. It was a painful moment. A tear trinkled down her face. Unhappy when she was a sane person, I think she left this world with some regrets.
When someone close dies, a part of you dies with them. And you are never the same again. I will remember her as the grandma who was stern, shrewd but ultimately wanted best for this family.
RIP Madam Tan Mui. May you be happy, wherever you are.
When she was well, she wasn't the most loving grandma. There was a missing maternal side to her. She was mostly critical, offensive, sarcastic in most of the things she said. Living with her, there were plenty of opportunities to bear the brunt of her evil tongue. She didn't like my maternal relatives and did little to hide that dislike. She wasn't extremely kind to my mother and saw her as a competitor for my dad's affection, who matured from a meek daughter-in-law, to one who dared to speak her mind, over the years.
But did she love us? Yes she did, in her awkward way of cooking unsavoury dishes when cooking wasn't her strength; in her way of attempting to speak to us in Mandarin which wasn't her strength; in her way of throwing allowances to us, because the act of giving wasn't something she'd naturally do.
I remember myself as a three-year-old, propped up on the shop counter by my grandparents. And my grandma would ask me the same line every other day -- “大小姐，你好吗？” And I would reply resoundingly with a “好！”
I cried as I watch my grandma die slowly on 11th Sep 2011, ten years after 911. It was a painful moment. A tear trinkled down her face. Unhappy when she was a sane person, I think she left this world with some regrets.
When someone close dies, a part of you dies with them. And you are never the same again. I will remember her as the grandma who was stern, shrewd but ultimately wanted best for this family.
RIP Madam Tan Mui. May you be happy, wherever you are.
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