St. Isreal

呜呼呜呼，我不愿去。
by鲁迅←殴


其实我来这里发东西是很有规律的。特别忙的时候我肯定不会来做写bo这种重要事业（实在很劳神），所以我发bo频率高的时段肯定是我不特别忙的时段，很多时候是特别不忙的时段。但是特别不忙的时候也不一定会多说话。一个月能发到10篇以上的话，一般都表示我当月状态和心情特别好。唔，有的时候我会爬上来抱怨，但是如果十天半个月连抱怨都没有一篇的话，那恐怕就是消沉起来了。

我不是什么厉害的人物，我经常消沉。我也不是一个一天到晚都能保持效率的人，近几年效率这东西严重受情绪和意愿的影响。消沉的理由都特别普通：我遇到讨厌的人，做不喜欢做的事，就消沉了。

不过有点不同的是，这么多年来，我很少能遇到讨厌的人，也很少做不喜欢的事。这完全不是运气。对前者，我始终保持着准确率很高的鉴别能力，认真地甄别挑选着朋友、共事者，甚至导师，我努力从有限的接触里寻找那些和我有少许共同点的人，远离那些完全不能相容的人。对后者，朋友们都知道我是个反逆者，为了按自己喜欢的方向生活，没少在墙上撞破头，没少吃无谓的苦……嘛，我也不是在反省啦。

但是近日的观察让我的素材库丰富了很多。——我见到了肆无忌惮扯皮的个体，一无所知混饭的个体，毫无信用可言的个体，最悲哀的是，也见到了尚知羞耻但却正向上述个体转变的青少年个体。然后我就惊觉我回到了十六岁高二和小女孩们写信的时候屡屡表示的担忧（这种担忧一般指向我那不安分的妹妹）——她太纯洁，该让她长大一些，但是让她长大真的好吗？

其实，回头看过来，我十六岁时对这个世界的认知，和我如今二十四岁时对这个世界的认知，基本没有差别。我是看小说长大的人，我知道小说和现实的区别只在于一些细节的补完。我十六岁时知道社会很险恶，和二十四岁比，只不过是不懂得“它到底险恶在哪里”。我到三十四岁时，获知的也不过是更多的细节。——但，也有很多根本的东西受到了挑战。譬如说，我曾经始终以为，人见多识广之后，纵使不能够理解不同的人之间存在的事实差异，也应该能够理解“人与人之间存在不同”这一点；我以为，人到了一定年纪，纵使不知道自己适合做什么，也该从过去的经历里懂得了自己不适合做什么。我以为人总能从历史里学到一些东西。但现在我发觉，那并不是必然的。

是我们现在这个时代，读历史的人太少了吗？我发现男人们大都喜欢研究权术，但不知道他们有没有发觉，玩权术总归是要玩完的。或许，一朝一代的荣华对他们来说，也够了。

++

我高中毕业那年，桶写给我：与其名留青史，不如垂心人间。

这话说得很大，但其实他前面还有一句：与其做千万人的上帝，不如做一个人的上帝。我知道他的意思，他就是说，你不要贪，你不要试图拯救太多人，你不会如愿，那也不会是你想要的。对一个人好就足够了。但我不知道他是不是明白，我从来也没有想过要做上帝，哪怕只是一个人的。我妈好像也不明白，我小时候我妈就老跟我说，你别想着当上帝了。

你们现在看我还像上帝吗？不像那就太好了。我不是一直在各种卷子里说，要说最幸福，有人记住就可以了么。

看了篇南方人物上非常扯淡的拖延症文章：这里 （虽然扯淡但文里隔两段就有一两点是我想给大家看的所以还是放一下吧）

最后给出的一个公式倒有点启发性：
U=EV / (ID)
U是工作效率，E是对成功的信心，V是愉悦程度，I是分心程度，D是多久能得到任务的回报。

我一直对那种“拖延症就是个人问题”的观点满不以为然。当然，这是对自己拖延症的回避责任，但作为制度主义者，我老是觉得个人永远都靠不住，要想解决一种人群发病率高达15-20%的社会流行病，总得从制度下手。追究上面那四个对工作效率的影响因素，也能发现里面似乎没有一个是完全主观的——
E的话，信心固然是主观的，但你有个很会发现人优点很会表扬人的领导和个从来不知道夸你的领导是挺不一样的；
V不完全是你的主观兴趣，它是你的兴趣与目前工作的匹配程度；
I跟个人意志力和习惯关系很大，但也很受工作环境影响；
D，唔，差不多是个纯粹领导的因素，也有部分制度因素。

整整一年前的这篇→http://lyndol.blog.shinobi.jp/Entry/350/ 不完全地讨论了这个问题。我提到的第二个因素，也就是回报的额度这一点上面的公式里没涉及。公式里的D很奇妙，不包含你能得到报酬的数额，而只是个时间概念。就是说，你的汇报人拖着不处理你的工作，你也就倾向于拖着不做。公式里应该隐含了个文章里没提的前提假设，就是总报酬固定。否则，如果给的是计件工资，或者奖金同工作量成正比例，甚或能够真正按效率执行的效率工资，和固定报酬相比，效率应该有大幅度的提升。相反，现在一些机关单位的情况是，报酬固定，如果你做得快了，要做的事情就更多——这样，扣除你的额外付出造成的成本，实际收入是下降的。

薪酬制度的设计真是技术活。然后EVI三项，其实都是能够通过妥善的管理和公司文化加以改善的……唔，我们的国家在这些方面还是太差了。

[BLEACH][莉莉尼特/史塔克/弓亲] 嘶嚎
by旧战场

↓评论若有冲撞勿怪。

之前在朋友中间做了个很有趣的小调查：我们经常梦见自己被追杀，但是有没有人梦见被追上之后的发生的事？

有的人（像我）比较擅长逃跑，基本没怎么被抓住过；也有的人转过身来和对方打架，也有一些被救的。据经验来看，很多人都有过在被抓住的刹那、被追赶得走投无路从悬崖跳下来的刹那从梦里醒来。在微博里问了之后，发现也有抓住后被抹脖子就醒来的。——总之，我的初步结论是这样的：要么你没被抓住，要么你被抓住了，就醒了——所有人的梦都止于失去对自己身体的自我控制。

这是一个很好玩的结论，因为如果人能够无意识地选择在失去自我控制时醒来，那正好表明了人能够在很大程度上控制自己的身体。在即将遭遇不幸的时候，“作为反抗，身体会醒来，告诉你这是梦”。

众所周知人的身体有一些非常良好的特性，比如骨骼肌不自主战栗（好吧，就是冷的时候会发抖），比如不能够习惯疼痛，比如选择性遗忘。最后一点我感触最深：最近的几个月里，我甚至明显地感觉到了自己的记忆力改善。

因为，没有什么想忘记的事。

哨子看到这又要笑了。把这句话说给他听的时候，他就在嘴里来来回回念了好几次。

但是说回来，这些“身体的良好特性”，似乎也都是在无意识下发挥作用的。一旦允许意识介入，人的贪欲就开始发挥作用，又不想自己关闭某些机能，又不想受到伤害。人从来都搞不懂自己身处的两难困境，是必须做出选择，放弃某一个分支的。

好吧，我扯远了。

*这篇写给我在缅甸认识的美国朋友Mike。我答应告诉他这个ID的故事。


I have to admit that the word Lyndol came from nowhere. I made it up. Although I’ve written a long story to tell about the man named Lyndol, the name itself has no meaning.
 
Lyndol was the lawful seccussor of the lord of the city Isreal (not Israel, please attention). In his early childhood his uncle Lydroy in a coupe killed his father and made him exile. Perhaps out of Lydroy’s pity, he survived as a sailor without changing his name, until he was 15. After that, he disappeared from vision for a couple of years, and came back, wandered around Isreal, the Gorgeous City, since a time point nobody could accurately tell, notorious for making his living on prostitutes. He was handsome enough to do that easily, and perhaps because of that Lydroy apparently no longer saw him a threat.
 
There wasn’t any change in his life until he was 26. Then he met Mavria. She might have some Gypsy blood, a witch, or an artist to put another way, and was drawing a purple Phoenix on a white cloth which is extremingly clean without even a spot of dirt.
 
That phoenix landed on the flag of Lyndol’s army 3 years later. Lyndol left Isreal very soon. He headed west to City Anderson, met Havred, who with him went down to Kingdom Lair to create their troop under the agreement of Havred’s sharing the revenue of the war but never entering City Isreal. Lyndol should lead his men into Isreal himself, to fulfill his oath of marrying his girl as the City Lord.
 
After the long campaign he returned to Isreal. At the night before the final attack, he and Havred rided out of the camp together to shed a glance at the city wall. They would part at the moment when success was destined, as they have promised. Lyndol talked no more than cool summer night weather, but Havred already realized Lyndol had made some decision. Normally he had no interest in understanding Lyndol’s mind but he could for the most of time guessed out his following move. He’s the best counterpart in the turbulent era one could ever had.
 
He was not at all surprised when Lyndol gave him the last message on the battlefield the day after. Lyndol was then riding too far from his soldiers, with only Havred following, toward the rain of arrows pouring down from the giant city wall. He stared back, directly at Havred’s eyes, with the face the same as when they were wandering in the southern land, singing rhythmless songs of the striders of the vast plain.
Finally Lyndol took off his hamlet with a smile.
 
Next second Lyndol’s shooting-star-like eyes was extinguished by an accurate arrow. It penetrated deep in his head and froze his smiling lips.
 
Havred didn’t let his friend’s body embrace the earth. He as lightening came up, wrapped Lyndol in the purple phoenix flag. Havred was so fast, the field was too messy, and they both were riding too far in front, that Lyndol’s men didn’t know anything about their captain’s death.
 
In minutes Havred occupied the city gate. He took over Lyndol’s famous sword Shadilia, Lyndol’s hamlet, and Lyndol’s name. As well as Lyndol’s oath. Havred, now Lyndol, returned to Isreal to be the lord, where he spent his remaining life without taking off the hamlet in front of anyone who knew Lyndol’s face.
 
What about the part of Lyndol’s oath that he was to marry his girl? Havred didn’t need to care any more. Mavria was burnt upon a cross, on the very peak of pyre, as a witch who had been tolerated long enough by the sympathetic citizens. That was several days before the final attack.
 
One thing has to be cleared that Lyndol didn’t choose to die because of Mavria’s end. He knew nothing about Mavria ever since he left. He didn’t know whether she was waiting for him. He didn’t even ask for a promise. He never cared. Lyndol was purely an idealist, sewing a dream but never brave enough to see it realize. It had been long time since he knew Mavria was no more than ordinary. He knew too much about vanishing love turning a goddess dim grey. Finally he would no longer distinguish her from any human being, including all the princesses and prostitues he met on the road. Lyndol could not endure the life afterwards, with oath fulfilled and no more space left for a dream.
 
I made Lyndol’s story certainly out of my own past, but it has been decorated so much that even a closest friend could not see similarities between Lyndol’s story and mine. However I totally understand him. I knew the mania when he first met Mavria, I knew how his heart is beating desperately at his last moment of life. Also, the will that oaths must be fulfilled, dreams never be repented, and the understanding that oaths and dreams conflict fundamentally and could not ever compromise.
 
Anyway. I’m really glad it is merely a story of past.