Working as a clinic nurse in New York is no walk in the park.You clock in,in change into your scrubs,clean the exam rooms,restock dwindling supplies of gauze and alcohol,log into the system to check for patient arrival and on top of all that, you have to deal with some asshole on the team constantly trying to shift the blame onto you.
That bastard loves nothing more than sucking up to the boss and acting as the manager's lapdog-he's practically one step away from moving into the boss's backyard just to live like a pet dog.He screws up his work every single day,yet he's the first one to sprint forward and claim the credit whenever there's any to be had.
Ihave worked alongside him for a whole year and haven't heard a single "I am sorry "out of his mouth.What the hell is wrong with him? I curse that bastard-may his entire family perish! I curse him to end up paralyzed,abandoned by his friends and loved ones, and left to die on the side of the road!Forget about morals or decency-God himself could forgive that bastard eight hundred times over, and it still wouldn't make a damn bit of difference to me. I'm just about ready to grab a gum and send that son of a bitch straight to meet Jesus.
A team ought to consist of visionary "hawks ",battle-hardened "wolves ",diligent "rabbits ", and swift-footed "horses ".But I am not some damn scapegoat-why the hell are you acting like a lunatic and singling "me "out?It is freezing cold in New York;how come you haven't frozen to death yet? I swear you are sick in the head-you need to go see a doctor and get some meds,not hang around the office making everyone sick to their stomachs.Get lost, you piece of trash!Get out of here, you bastrard colleague!
This world-whether in China or the U.S.,whether in schools or corporations-is infested with these kinds of vile,trashy scumbags.That whold pack of garbage should just form their own "Planet of Scumbags "and get the hell off this lovely blue we call Earth.
"The Earth is my home;keeping it beautiful is everyone's responsibility ."But whenever I run into a piece of trash-a total scumbag-like this,all I want to do is yell,"What the hell?"
Workplace stress rushes into the subway cars just like the crowds themselves;then,at the exit of the 7 Train,it spills out like a tidal wave,flooding into Flushing-that famous Chinese enclave.Prices keep skyrocketing while wages barely budge.Good God-are you trying to work me to death?After shelling out for phone bills,rent,food, and transportation, I am practically one step away from begging for spare change right outside the subway station.
Life for the average person in New York is just too damn hard-and that is not even getting into my bizarre roommate.We can't even share a kitchen or bathroom without getting into a screaming match;she is as repulsive as a sewer rat.Seriously, if the dinosaurs went extinct,she is the kind of freak who would survive by eating cockroaches.
I admit it: I am a loser in the New York arena."Aaaah!"Oh God,just throw me a lifeline! I am nothing but a wretched woman sharing a kitchen and bathroom with strangers."Aaaah!"
All I want-after navigating the cutthroat battles of the workplace-is to sit down to a steaming bowl of egg-fired rice.My life is as repulsive as butter that just won't spread.
On God,why must You torment a woman who has only just escaped the dark shadow of a patriarchal upbringing? I am not merely a victim of horrors; I am a survivor-one who,having endured those horrors,still possesses the courage to live on.
I will live. I will survive in New York-day after day,year after year-until my name echoes throughout the entire city.
If I truly possess what one might call a "life story ",and its conclusion,death.With the ultimate outcome now known,a heavy weight has finally lifted from my heart-much like the "falling boot "phenomenon in psychology:when one boot has dropped but the other has yet fall,you are left feeling anxious,apprehensive, or even terrified.Yet,once the final ending is revealed,we are paradoxically able to face life with a sense of equanimity.For who, in their teens,has not dreamed of achieving fame at a young age?Who, in their twenties, has not wept bitterly after pouring their heart and soul into an endeavor only to meet with failure?And who,upon reaching thirty,has not been mocked for having achieved-or so it seemed-absolutely nothing?
New York is truly a bustling metropolis,drawing people from every corner of the globe.
Possessing a skill isn't enough here-you also need a certification.Having a certification isn't enough-you also need a reference.And even having a reference isn't enough-you also need that quintessential "American smile ".Everyone here resembles a mannequin churned out on an assembly line;we are all like Barbies trapped inside little boxes-this Barbie looks just that Barbie, and that Barbie looks just like this one.
Do these mass-produced Barbies possess a soul?And who,after all,truly cares about who we are on the inside?We grow increasingly weary,living our lives as mere mannequins-as symbols,as mere synonyms for success.
New York has exacted the sacrifice of all our souls;those who truly stand at the very pinnacle of this pyramid may look like human beings,yet they are-in reality-nothing more than beats cloaked in human skin.
Although I left Fuzhou because of my family's preference for sons over daughters, I truly miss that small southern city.There,sunlight pours down in abundance-as if it were free for the taking-and would surely illuminate my tiny,dim room; I could even take my blankets outside to air them out in the sun,rather than being confined to using a clothes dryer.
I miss the great banyan trees and jasmine flowers of my hometown.During the sweltering summers months, the massive banyans shield people from the scorching heat;people can sit and rest on the stone steps beneath the trees,listening to the gentle murmur of the river nearby-a sound that seems to carry away all boudless sorrows.
The jasmine blossoms can be strung together on a fine thread to create bracelets,allowing one to carry their delicate fragrance throughout the entire day-a scent that is,without a doubt,for more effective than any perfume.
You could also head down to the riverside to cast a line or take a stroll,watching the sun dip below the horizon at dusk-watching the evening glow settle upon your shoulders until it paints you right into the beautiful scenery of your hometown.
We ought to go out and see the mountains, the waters,and the world;we shouldn't remain trapped within the cramped rooms of high-rises,living lives so worthless that anyone can come along and trample all over us like trash.
Yet,reality is invariably cruel.In novels, the young protagonist prossesses peerless martial arts;he encounters all manner of extraordinary adventures and finds benefactors at every turn.
But in real life,we might have our wallets stolen or snatched-or find ourselves unable to even afford a meal-forced to sit near public housing,enduring the strange stench of marijuana,cigarette smoke,urine, and nauseating exhaust fumes,while chocking down a sandwich that makes us sick to our stomachs.
The limp,withered greens inside that sandwich look exactly like us-beaten down by life.It turns out we aren't Ultraman after all; we are merely the little monsters defeated by life itself.
Yet,even little monsters have parents-parents who into the world and earned a fortune.
Back in Little Monster 's hometown,there are so many people who dream of visiting-or even moving to-this bustling metropolis of New York.The have no idea how exhausting Little Monster's existence here truly is,nor how bitter the struggle for survival has become.
They don't know that Little Monster now has to take painkillers every single day just to make it to work-a dosage that keeps steadily climbing,from one pill a day to three.
Little Monster's back injury is now a permanent affliction-something that will never fully heal in this lifetime.Little Monster has effectively become a useless wreck,incapable of performing any kind of physical labor.
Oh,poor Little Monster-drifting through New York all alone,solitary and adrift.It is so exhausting,so agonizing.
Little Monster dares not wail aloud;instead,the tears are shed in silence,hidden away beneath the covers.Drop after drop, the tears soak right through the blanket.Damn it-now,on a precious day off,Little Monster will have to take the blanket to be dried…which means spending money all over again.
Now I truly understand why "Little Monster "loves gole coins so much. I don't love money for its own sake, but I genuinely need U.S. dollars to survive;without them, I would truly perish. I have no desire to freeze to death like a homeless person in the depths of winter.
New York is a place where one constantly teeters on the brink of financial ruin-it is,quiet simply, a living hell.
Oh God,how am I to escape this place? I refuse to return to my hometown to endure a life dominated by patriarchal bias,yet I no longer have the will to continue this ceaseless struggle in New York.
Oh Divine Powers-if indeed there is a divine will at work-please,grant me a clear sign.
Little Monster,on your days off,you visited both an Indian temple and the Chuang Yen Monastery.
Yet, you did not bow your head to the deities to confess your sins,for you felt you had committed no wrong.Nor did you burn incense or paper money as offerings,for Little Monster places greater faith in herself.Better to take charge of one's own destiny than to merely pray to gods and Buddhas;better to cultivate true competence within oneself than to merely recite sutras.Little Monster believes that knowledge is power;Little Monster blievevs that hard work and diligence will ultimately pay off.Perhaps Little Monster is merely experiencing a temporary streak of bad luck-if only she can hold out through this rough patch…if only she can make it through this year.My life cannot consist solely of winter;if I can just endure the cold season, I know I will eventually reach the spring.Little Monster,hang in there! The stars in the heavens still shine bright, and the North Star will surely guide your way.Through this arduous journey, you shall reach the stars.Suffering is transient;it will eventually pass.Just hold on a little longer-give it one more valiant effort.You will succeed.And even if you don't attain the conventional measures of worldly success,you will have remained true to your own efforts-and that,Little Monster,step forward without fear;for every stride you take,it is the books you have read that lend you their support.
People often cite the hierarchical of influence:first Destiny,second Luck,third Feng Shui,fourth Accumulated Virtue, and fifth-Reading. I believe that knowledge is power;I trust that the books I have consumed in the past will carve a path to survival for me. I stand with myself-advancing together,facing life and death side by side. I will never betray myself; I will steadfastly safeguard my own interests. I and I alone-we are the ultimate partners.
Oh,gears of destiny-begin to turn!Let me witness these so-called miracles.Clutching my twenty-five cents, I look remarkable like Scarlett O'Hara making her solemn vom-and remarking like you,fighting a solitary battle simply to survive.We are all little"monsters "striving against the odds.
We deserve a glass of wine to toast our own perseverance-and then we deserve to smash that glass,hurling curses at the absurdity of fate.