Second day at home on a weekday. Being ill is not a nice thing, particularly on an island, alone. Tried to phone a few people, what encountered me was long ring and no answer. Then I realize, when I get older, so do my friends. Modern life is busy for adults, study and work, and family for the lucky ones.

I almost want to quote my life as 'Les Miserable'. Being ill for two weeks and struggle with the work. The first time sick leave left people the impression that I was on strike. Then staying at home, with no food, any sort, in the fridge, I went to the supermarket, with strong wind, or gales blowing hard. My belief is shaken. Do I want to keep my current life style? The blackberry turns red, email of a leaving drink of an M&A girl, who decides to transfer to Wealth Management in New York. Not bad move, I murmured, almost feel jealousy.

But come on, Jia, it is only a cold or flu. I can hear my heavy but clear breath, so there is nothing serious. Although the cough is vicious and distractive, there is no evidence which can make me believe that I have to change my lifestyle completely to save my life, which is a very different story for those who are eating themselves to death, the most popular and strong campaign on Channel four this season.

So I lay on bed, reminding myself I am cooking a pork soup on the stove and typing a new entry to cheer myself up. Look back, I still love what I do. I can still feel the pride and passion I have for the job. Obviously there are difficult times, but so it is for every job. Millions people got this bloody flu virus and other vomiting bugs too. Why should I feel so bad? Sure, it would be nice if someone can be around, calling you, asking you if you want some water, is the room warm enough, if you want more salt and pepper in the soup? But there is no one around. So I have to live with it.

I promised myself that I should watch no TV yesterday. But still, I cannot help it and watched Tom Hanks in Cast Away. How much I wished it was a play. It definitely will be more powerful on audience. The good news is that, not only good dramas are being adapted to be shown in the cinemas. But also good cinema works are going back to stage. Shadowland is being played in London right the moment. I wish someone can take this task to have Cast Away in theaters too. Surprisingly, after checking the winning record for the movie, I found the movie mainly got prizes and nominations for Tom Hanks' acting only, but not the story itself. But what a clever plot it is! Wilson, the volleyball, was treated as a friend and Tom Hanks risked his life to try to save his friend, Wilson. This is the strongest emotional moment for me for the whole movie. Island life is not just about survival physically, but also mentally. The reason that he survived is his desire to be with his girl friend again. The photo of his beloved girl friend and the volleyball, Wilson, sustained him mentally for the 1500 days. He is alone, but spiritually, he has something to hang on to. Human, as defined in the movie, is such a social animal. “I am sorry, Wilson”, is the most desperate cry I will always remember, nevertheless, the most touching outcry of showing how caring human nature is.

So two o'clock in the afternoon, I shall go back to sleep. I am always in bed, but sleep is different thing. I am sure Tom Hanks dreamed about his girl friend during the long nights on the island. What will I be dreamed about? Going back to work tomorrow, I dreamed a full recovery. Oh, hope this is not just a dream.

So the end of the entry will be a question. While all the pro-democratic people believed that the current political frames and structure is not sustainable given people's life are getting better. I always suspect if this is true. For too many, bread is more important than vote.

Switch off the classic music, pop and rock are too noisy, and Jazz becomes the music of the day. Somehow, the smoothness reminds me of my stay in the luxury hotel in India. But back in London, life returns to normal, still in the tiny room in Waterloo. I know luxury life will not come until a few more years’ hard work.

Meanwhile, surprisingly, I get my first bank holiday weekend free, after one whole year with the bank. No more complains, life is good for an A2 at the moment, when the market is down, not for long…

An impulse to buy a proper coffee from an Italian chain, and with some weekend magazine, and then a lazy afternoon in a park, and wonder which theatre shall I go this evening. Or finish off the War and Peace? Still it is a too ambitious project for a three-day weekend. Even just one year after school, I realized sometimes a step back is a step forward.

Celebration, for the pleasure of a short but sweet quiet and lazy weekend!

Hail to Internet!

After one-year goodbye to Internet, I finally regained connection to the world. I do not want to waste one more minute to tell the world that I am back.

When you are in the dark, you cherish the light of one little candle. When I am disconnected from the world, I appreciate the even slow connection through mobile Sim-card. Were we less greedy, how nice all of us would be.

No need to say that there is no big-size download. Even worse, I cannot access company specific connections due to limited Internet connection and a five-year old computer. Still, I sing the happiness in the mid of night and forget all the worries about the presentation due this week for a super-size conglomerate. Ah, happiness sometimes can be just that simple.

So in the very near future, I can browse the CFA course material during weekends, reading some novels on line (I always read electronic versions quicker, hopefully I can finish War and Peace by this winter) and of course, visit the MSN as often as possible. Forget the current fever of Facebook, I still enjoy all the links in Space that collects my dear high school mates and university friends. Look out, all of you, be prepared to be disturbed.

Hail to the Internet - a small connection that link the bigger world together!

How successful am I combining the two cultures? A hard judgement call to be made. After five years in England, after spent four summers working and travelling in Europe and Britain, I decided it was enough. I know it is time to seek the root even though I am only celebrating my second year of pig. A journey is waiting ahead, the questions remain unanswered. Worse than cosmophysics I do not even know the known unknowns.

A hectic week with too little sleep, nevertheless, there are good news, not from me, but from another Shanghai girl, who will follow my step in another financial institution, only minutes away from me. I have kept saying that welcome any one to join me, not for the good sake of the so-called privilege, but rather, for me to have someone to share the sad stories as a new starter.

Last night I cannot holding my tears. But stamina, with two hour sleep and no shower, I am back. No idea if this is going to be a good book or not. It is important as a junior to produce good book. Nevertheless, a successful meeting depends too little on the book itself, but rather the way how people talk through the pages. Almost surprised that I would choose this trade, a totally different aspect of me, or just the proper character has not shown up yet.

Speechless...

I almost get rid of the habit of keeping a journal, then comes a movie, in which a boy kept a journal to keep craziness away...

Similarly I kept a journal for the last one year and a half to keep my loneliness away, of course, until my work started. Two months on, life gets easier, at least feels much easier. IB is something really tough, not because the trade is hard, but the people you are working with are tough. The impression is that they are all super human with stamina and determination and nothing else but 100% professional from A to D, to MD, no exceptions.

So it is great to get out of the tough environment, with a soft and creamy coffee in South Bank. Just this afternoon, I discovered a Nero Cafe near my home. With a cappuccino (excuse my boring choice, but this is London), I try to keep up with myself of the last month's events.

Indeed London is relaxed. With normally Saturday off and early Sunday morning away from the office, even though Monday to Friday are busy until mid night, I have plenty chance to relax and recharge myself. Even though I cannot see how much progress I am making in the City, at least mere existence says something about me.

But City is not the whole world, even though it appeared to be so for the first two months. Living now with a designer under one roof makes me realize how much life can differ from one individual to another. While my room is full with computer staff and economics journals, the designer has a guitar, a sewing machine and a Toshiba high-tech white laptop and a wooden model. How different is our mind is a question we can never tell. But diversity is what I really appreciate in this lonely city.

It is not really that lonely. Last Saturday ended with a visit to National Gallery. I was absolutely astound with the current free exhibition on From Manet to Picasso. There are no new works borrowed from peer galleries, but a simple re-organization gives the audience a fresh image. The audio guide costs only 3 pounds, and with the explanations, I can free myself from reading the notes on the painting, but focus more on the paintings. A more important benefit is to be away from the crowd's noise, which is inevitable in a popular place in London. But looking close to Van Gogh's paintings, I did not feel anything particular. It could be easily understand that the audience in the 1900 to have the first chance to see the thick texture and three-dimension of paintings as an innovation. But today this technique is so widely used among painters. What impressed me is a painting of grass growing in the garden where Van Gogh stayed during his mental illness period. The painting has no central point and the grass grow wildly and seem to invade every inch of the space. Fully vivid is the eager to grow and explosion of energy. Another form of Van Gogh's passion to paint. He drew nearly 800 paintings in three months near his death. Only he knows the experience of the uncontrollable madness and eager to paint.  

The other exhibition, which I have to pay is on Spanish court painter Velázquez. The idea to go there is from an article from Art Quarterly. Rather than focus on the formal court portraits, the author highlights Valazquez's realistic paintings on ordinary life, like kitchen scenes. Indeed, the technique is great, especially the details of reflecting the different textures of wares in the kitchens, from white eggs to metal containers to the slices of garlic. But I was not impressed by either the realistic paintings nor the royal portraits of princes and kings. Neither poor nor luxury life are impressive if the sprit is missing from the paintings. The Venus might not be the most beautiful one, but it is well-known due to unlimited imagination. The face is vague in the mirror, which left the audience to fill the perfect image. Another shocking painting but less well-known is a portrait of Aesop, the Greek philosopher. This is a timeless painting. The old philosopher is dressed like a beggar, with a book in his hand, an indication of his knowledge. The face is full of wrinkles' and his hair is purely white, aging, destined fate for human being. But the emotion is peaceful. Wisdom comes after suffering, mentally and physically. The more a man suffers, the wiser he becomes?

Perfection can be achieved from different ways. So from extreme realism to impressionism to surrealism to abstractism. We can go through all the famous paintings in our minds like movies. Going forward or rewinding, we cannot say which one is the best, but all of them reflect perfection of each painter who devoted their life in the struggle to seek the ideal painting.

Tonight will be chilly, but chillier is the story of Queen of Spades composed by Tchaikovsky, which is currently on in Royal Opera House. This probably is not my top choice to see an opera on a Saturday evening, but missing out Le Bohemia, I really do not have that many options left. I really should go to at least one concert by LSO on Sunday. 

Indeed my days are not bad. Life is just like the cappuccino I am drinking, from the bitterness of coffee, comes the smoothness and pleasure.