写在24岁到来之际On Turning 24
Translated from the Chinese original, first published on WeChat「世像」on October 5, 2018.本文 2018.10.05 首发于微信公众号「世像」。
"我有我心底故事，亲手写上每段得失乐与悲与梦儿"
回顾
过去的一年是一个认知改进和提高的一年。生日更多只是个幌子，只是在这个节点便于审视过去的时间和未来的世界以及分享此刻的感受。一个人的变化只有自己是最不容易察觉的，但也只有自己是最容易感受到的。
23岁时，我告诉自己的是：过去几年太执着于 be cool，be smart，be interesting，走了很多弯路才肯承认自己是个不洒脱又无聊的蠢人。不如把 be interesting 这样的事交给那些真正有趣的人去做，我就负责站在台下真诚鼓掌。希望新一岁可以 be real，be kind，be independent。想想比之前的目标还难得多。
interesting 有多难呢？张鹏之前讲过一个关于王兴的故事：美团刚成立不久，他安排记者去深入研究和采访王兴。记者去采访时背了个比较新的背包，王兴充满好奇地花了两三分钟把背包的各种功能设计研究了一遍，给出了「不错」的评价，之后才坐下来接受采访。记者回来讲这个故事的时候，整个编辑部都笑出了声。
24岁，想和自己说：多关注本质，少在意噪音；多尽兴，少回头以及不要很快的磨去棱角。过去的一年，有开心，有失望；有快乐，有彷徨；有迷茫，依旧在寻找和成长。回顾这年，给自己打个63分吧。
青春如同奔流的江河一去不回来不及道别
在每一个这样的一个轮回里，时光把你曾经掐出水的皮肤，披挂上阵的青春，心有猛虎的芳华，小鹿乱撞的心事，视若珍宝的真情，引以自豪的标签都一一掠夺，把焦虑、恐惧、失望、纠结、成长、成熟、坦然，又都还给了你。
今年有一个很大的观感是：明显感受到自己"老了"，虽然可以在运动的时候生龙活虎，圆满的跑完了半马和全马，但依旧感受深刻。来源有几方面：
i. 晚上打 2h 的全场，后两天大腿酸痛到上台阶时都有些费劲（当然和很久没打全场有一定关系）
ii. 虽然依旧可以1公里跑到4min，但明显感觉胳膊腿没有以前那么灵活了
iii. 团建喝一整瓶红酒完全没事，依旧该干嘛干嘛
iv. 短跑不再像以前那么有竞争力以及熬夜越来越困
v. 前两年还比较有底气的说自己是94年的，那么现在越来越没有底气了。因为身边都是97，98的
你之所以觉得时间一年比一年过得快，是因为时间对你一年比一年重要。时间是太珍贵的东西，你知道在任何一个年龄段都难以赢它。当20+即将下架，30+近在眼前，望着40+的人在"等待戈多"，站在每个以十计数的拐点上，青春的逝去真是一件让人绝望的事。以及让人不由得感叹：年轻真好。
因为时间和年龄，身边到处在贩卖焦虑。在很多欧美发达国家，即使经济下行得一塌糊涂，人们依然每天发呆发得心安理得。为什么中国会存在几岁就应该做几岁的事情这种智障观点？因为中国是一个任何人都无法独善其身的地方。而绝大部分焦虑，都和年龄（岁数）有关——男人三十而立，女人过了XX岁就嫁不出去了，etc。90后的人，都觉得自己老了。因为同龄人都太牛逼了，自己现在成功都晚了。姜思达93年的；TF boys 99—2000年的。ofo ceo 戴威：26岁。甚至 Forbes 公布的都是：30 under 30 榜单。好像现在身边看到的全是"神话"和"传奇"。如果仔细观察，身边的朋友或者比自己大一些的朋友，前辈，现最大的焦虑来自于哪里，基本都是"peer pressure"：工作，晋升，买房，教育，医疗……
焦虑有用么？焦虑是最廉价的内驱力；亦是一种很正常的自然状态，无法改变和解决，那就去学会接纳和它共处。表面上看焦虑会让你不适，但实际上焦虑恰恰为你提供了行动计划的可能性，从而让你避免思考人生意义这样基本无解的问题。但整天贩卖焦虑就是 bullshit 了。
矮大紧曾经说：年少时，原来我以为没到四十的时候，觉得四十不惑的意思是你就都明白了，什么都懂了；然后等到了四十岁才发现：不惑的意思其实是说你不明白的事你就不想明白了。年轻的时候你每件事都想明白，每个人都想仔细的把他看透，甚至这个社会，这个时代你都特别想去明白。但其实你明白不了，你连自己最爱的人坐你对面你可能都不明白。可是年轻的时候就太像明白，因为老觉得有些事不明白就是生活的慌张，后来老了才发现：那慌张就是青春，你不慌张，青春就没了。
我对即将24岁的自己要求依然没变：
不要把时间浪费在分析他人甚至模仿他人上，也尽量不要让他人的优秀成为自己焦虑的来源。找到自己真正热爱和喜欢的东西，然后矢志不渝的坚持，去付出宝贵的青春，时间，精力物力财力。
不要总想着要证明自己，过几年回过头来看的时候会发现这是一种很幼稚的想法和行为。没有实力的自尊心，可以说一文不值。
多思考什么是不会变的，即便它回报你的周期很漫长。
找到好的伴侣是一件极其困难的事情且大多数的人其实并不拥有。你要做的，是不断认识自己以及让自己变得配得上好的伴侣。
人最重要的是认识自己
20几岁，对于全世界的人来说都是人生中重要的10年。我们这代人的可怜之处：90后，25-30岁，很现实也伴随着理想主义，各种多元的价值观在脑内冲突。很多人没有兴趣，不知道该追求什么，不明白婚姻的意义但单身也不快乐；没有经历过大风大浪，好运也不曾发生，什么都不缺，又都没有什么，孤独，太多人晚上压力太大睡不着觉，白天去上班身上一个伤口都没有，完完整整的，连倾诉都很矫情。
孤独教会我的第一件事，就是专注于自我。这世上没有什么比认识自己更重要了，无法完整解读自我的人，对世界的解读难免走向狭隘的死胡同。
我天性不善言语，凡事冷漠；不刻意迎合也不愿取悦谁；独处时最轻松 无需感到不安；性格喜静，钝感慢热，重感情。有时胆大心细，也有很多时候比较怂。足够感恩，但也绝对记仇。很多人觉得我好说话，那是你没见过我翻脸的时候。马东东说：被误会是表达者的宿命，我们没有什么可抱怨的。
之前一直被认为是文艺青年，但深知自己并非文艺青年，只是有一些看似文艺的爱好。作为一个收藏控，喜欢收集一切和记忆有关的物品，比如签证，出入境戳，明信片，地图，邮戳；又比如科比球衣，马拉松奖牌 etc。这些爱好并不文艺，它只是为了拓宽生命厚度的一种选择以及在一去不复返的渐渐老去的路上，即使记忆力还不错，也在很切身的实际感受着精力和脑细胞跟不上变化的节奏，留给自己的更多回忆。我一点都不文艺，反而2B青年和运动青年更适合自己。
现在越来越接受这个世界就是充满了大不同和大不解，虽然依然好奇心像食欲一样旺盛，求知欲像性欲一样强烈，但没办法也无需知道每一件事情原因和经过。经常提醒自己：要克服你的虚荣心，你的炫耀欲，要对付时刻想要出风头的小聪明。我不太想追逐最前沿和热门的概念了，只在乎自己真心喜爱的东西且用心去体验。
以前人们总说，包容的前提是理解。其实不是的，包容的前提是你接受"这个世界就是无穷的、不同的"这个事实。我们不需要去理解那么多事情：不需要理解世界有多无穷、每个人又为什么不同。其实，人的每一种身份都是一种自我绑架，唯有失去是通往自由之路。
曾以为重要的人和事随时间慢慢远去，到如今身边不过好友二三。还有 Kindle 里读惯了的书。没有人找你聊天就时不常找自己聊聊天，没有比"让我理解我"更加重要的事情。
人的本质是一切社会关系的总和
从大学到现在，自己一直在做的一件事是寻找自己喜欢&擅长的方向以及职业选择，这也是我和很多朋友请教和聊到的问题。同时，除了职业之外，另外一直在做的一件事是了解自己，包括性格。之前朋友说："我一直都很清晰自己要什么，这一点很棒"。但恰恰相反。作为一个天秤座，做选择是最纠结的。一直以来都很羡慕那种从小就知道自己喜欢什么或者在大学毕业时就找到了自己愿意从事的职业或者行业。
从大一开始在北京实习，先后请教&咨询&折腾过四五个主流行业；和很多学长学姐，行业前辈，请教咨询交流过有关职业选择以及路径的问题。只要和我聊过的，肯定知道我在说什么。一路折腾到现在，对于自己的 Career goal，真正喜欢和想做的事，算找到一些感觉和灵感。现在也越来越喜欢&期待周末，因为可以好好 relax & 复盘下。尤其今年在工作上，对社会&人际关系，行业，赛道以及职业发展有了更深一步的了解和认知吧。
工作后，复杂多样多变的人际关系有点让我措手不及和一度十分困惑。不过从另一角度看，也有助于让我很快的熟悉和了解社会和行业运行的一些规则。北京是一个信息，项目，机构碾压上广深之和的城市，但同时戾气和噪音也最重。
要说生活里我不太喜欢的一个词是"兄弟"。尤其北方这个词被用的过于频繁，然而真的以"兄弟"待人的寥寥无几。大部分都是各自心里打着小九九用这个词和别人套近乎，盘算着怎么从"兄弟"身上捞点好处。希望朋友就是朋友，客户就是客户，兄弟是真的兄弟，不要再侮辱这个词语，谢谢。讨厌那99%的假"兄弟"，也感谢那1%的"兄弟"。
另外，不要怕你得罪人就会碰壁，你身边90%的人你都得罪的起。他们能做的最多也就是恶心恶心你，动动手指头就能碾碎你的大佬没时间伺候你，没必要仅仅因为怕得罪人就不停地低姿态和让步。意识到大部分人你都惹得起，就不会不停地为了所谓的"维护形象"而委曲求全，就不会不断地允许对方触碰你的界限，国家都是通过在边界线上筑高墙拉电网让别国知道不该你进的地方别乱逛的。让别人知道你是一个有界限感的人是一切良好关系的基础——有诚意想当你朋友的人，都知道尊重是入场券。
今年对于行业，赛道的认知比以前的了解和认知更为深远。工作和职业选择方面我和很多人说过：自己是一个极度兴趣导向的人。对自己感兴趣的东西，很有极大的动力，兴趣去了解，认知和学习。有人问过我不知道自己喜欢什么怎么办？我自己现在虽然已经摸到一些门道，但也没完全找到。不过有了一些新的认知和理解：
i. 最好的路径当然是做自己喜欢的事。如果你能把爱好，技能和工作结合在一起，就是人生赢家。不知道喜欢什么就看直觉；没有直觉就撞到什么干什么。不要怕选择，你不喜欢还可以改。不要怕选错走弯路，选错是必然的事。每个人都会做很多很多选择，关键是提高选对的成功率而不是怕选错。人一生可能要做成千上万个选择，怎样让你重要的选择不出错或者少出错，这才是关键。
ii. 换一种角度看衡量人生的维度。经济基础决定上层建筑，有什么样的衡量手段就有什么样的行为。上学时，考试成绩和排名是最重要的手段。大学期间，找一个好工作又成为最重要的指挥棒；工作后，我们的一切行为都围绕升职加薪展开，我们的一切喜怒哀乐也围绕升职加薪展开，etc. 以上看似都似乎没有问题，但很多人可能忽视了更本质的东西——自由时间和快乐。而这两点完全可以作为另外一种衡量人生的指标。
自己身边以及社会上很多人，在追逐名利的过程中疲惫不堪，忘记了问自己当下正在忙碌的事情是否是自己命中注定要做的事情，忘记问自己是不是开心。这就是社会普遍流行的，对于人生意义和价值的衡量维度出了问题。我们太在意外在的名和利，太在意外部看法而不是去问问自己：自己究竟要做什么以及是否快乐？而当名与利与我们内心所真正向往的事情，自己的快乐出现矛盾时，我们不假思索的选择了名和利，以为有了名和利就可以解决一切问题。但最终这一切是徒劳的。
财务自由是近两年很火的一个词，也是很多人追逐的目标。我认为所谓的「财务自由」，本质就是拥有足够的「自由时间」，即不再需要通过出卖自己的时间去获得收入，而是可以自由支配时间去做自己真正喜欢，想做，有激情的事。在做的过程中，找到生命的意义。而相关的状态：快乐，则是一种自然散发的喜悦之情。当然不置可否，切换到这两个维度衡量目标需要一定的时间积累和经济基础。
现在大学生的求职很大程度上被一些求职类自媒体给洗脑和毒害了。他们凭借着信息不对称和行业光环，比如 VC PE；投行，使得一批又一批的大学生，对自己没有那么了解和对行业有认知的情况下，将他们"引入歧途"。进去之后发现自己一不喜欢，二没底蕴，三没资源。这也是国内学生求职的现状&存在的问题：一是决定不好行业（eg.互联网 or 金融）；二是决定了行业却看不清路径最优解（eg. 想做投资 认为毕业进入一家 tier2 的投资公司就一定是比先进四大再跳槽更好的选择）；三是选择路径却看不清路线图。
当回忆是你最后寄给自己的明信片
一个人飞去土耳其浪了15天貌似是我做过最热血的事情之一。真的是一个人。那些生命中最美好的事情，比如旅行、比如艺术，应该是不被追问"意义"的。它们像吃饭睡觉一样自然，是我们生活方式的一部分。
细细回想，这些年的旅行经历和旅途中认识的朋友，留下的回忆，是我最美好的回忆之一。这些人和事，在你回忆起来的时候会让你有剥洋葱的感觉，感慨万千，泪流满面。
在旅途中结识不少朋友，有一位很好的朋友是在台湾相识的。我们在花莲相遇，台湾是一个可以好好的盖戳的地方，自己当时身上的邮票用完了，正好她当时身上有，我问她能不能卖给我几张以解燃眉之急，她就送了我两张，心里感激不尽。我们分道继续各自的旅途，不曾想，后来在下一个地方又相遇了。路上一起玩，她也喜欢收集明信片。后来加了微信，成为了朋友。归途后，一直保持联系，都曾给予过对方帮助，支持和鼓励。我们会经常收到彼此寄给对方的明信片，出行时也会想着寄一张给对方。
16年她研究生毕业，拿到了魔都户口。但当时她觉得目前的生活不是自己想要的，想去新西兰 gap year 一年（亦即传说中的打工旅行），跑来咨询我的意见，我当时的第一感觉是很佩服她的勇气。我自己对 gap year 有所了解也曾想尝试，一来继无积蓄也无契机，甚至都没有她迈出那一步的勇气。这种重要关头的选择我不敢帮别人轻易下结论和选择。我们当时讨论了蛮久，最后她还是决定要辞职去澳洲。后来，我帮她抢去新西兰的旅行签证，这种签证目前在中国变得越来越抢手。最后，她如愿抢到了签证，去体验了一段不可多得的人生体验。现在已经重新回到了魔都，开始新的生活。
想想，从我们台湾相识已经快4年。每每回想起来，都会不由得感慨：这个世界真是奇妙。或许真的是缘分，会让这些人和你真正的相遇。而这，也是旅行的意义之一。愿你一路自由潇洒迷糊看风景，当回忆是你最后寄给自己的明信片。
人是时间的函数
如果1个小时值10元，那么一刀切成两半，半个小时，就连5元都不值；再劈成两半，每个15分钟，就连1元都不值。你把时间碎尸万段，你的时间就一文不值。
这些年，你天天刷屏阅读各种分析报告，花大量时间讨论英国脱欧，宝万之争的财经大事件，每天分享自己的观点和鸡汤，努力和判断下一波浪潮和商机。于是，你热点悉知，鸡汤盈腹，谈资丰富，出言成章，但这么多年过去，你依旧一事无成。那些掷地有声的分析报告和万众瞩目的商业大事里，或许蕴含大商机，但对你来说，最现实的商机还是在你自己手里。你还记得最近你手机里最热闹的新闻标题或者热门词么？你可能80%都想不起来了，你只能想起他们原来曾经那么的流行。正所谓：繁花似锦；烈火烹油。当我们回首往事时，我们什么都没记住。
我们渐渐变为微博，朋友圈 etc 的困兽。我们的关注点从自己变成了外面的琐碎，每天相互点点赞，发发言。如果每条资讯是100个字，每天你读100条，你一个月的阅读量可以达到30万。30万是什么概念呢：相当于数十本短篇小说，3-10本中篇小说（30k-100k万字），1部长篇小说（100k万字以上）。我们的墓碑上以后可能会这么书写：此人酷爱阅读，每天阅读公众号几十，微博上百。
这一年在持续做减法。人的一生何其短暂，能够尽可能多理解一点自己真正在意的事情、多体验一点自己真正喜爱的经历，就已足够幸运。现在朋友圈再度关闭，取关一批公众号，退出 n 多群 etc。越来越不喜欢那种让人什么都懂的讨论，这种东西绝大多数都是社交货币。确定自己的边界和承认自己的无知是一种很难得的品质。
这一年的一个认知是，很多人对于人脉理解存在偏差。实际上，小孩子才讲人脉，大人只看利益。人脉不是你认识多少人，而是谁认识你才重要。所以有时也别怪别人不回你微信，本质上还是你 level 没到，优先级不够高。古人云：穷在闹市无人问富在深山有远亲。不要担心自己认识的人不够多或被边缘化，有这种担心本质还是你不够强大。你应该要担心的是自己的目标在哪里以及你想成为什么样的人，只要你足够强大，强大到足够成为一个大家都必须围绕着你取暖的太阳，那么你就绝对让人不敢不正视你并且以你为中心围绕着你转。与其担心自己是个 nobody，倒不如先努力让自己成为一个 somebody。
另外，实际上你的好友列表里大部分人都不 care 你发些什么，即使频繁刷存在感也不能引起注意，只有真正喜欢你的人会去做阅读理解，所以想发什么就发吧，反正也没人喜欢你。
每个跑马者心中都装着一个希腊
过去一年自己很大一个"成就"是在过去半年完成了半马和北马。之前我把自己称为：Traveler，Runner，Reader，Sneaker。Runner 可能是目前四者中最符合和贴切的。自己跑步的节奏一般都是下午，每当跑完看着夕阳西下，满满的都是快乐和享受。这种快乐，在每一个5公里，10公里后，世界安静得只听得见自己的呼吸的时候，达到最高潮。看着被汗水浸透的T恤，心里满满都是自信和满足感。我希望，这种快乐，会陪我一辈子。这种高潮，永无低落。
跑步，特别是长跑是一种孤独的运动，也是一项能让你更了解自己的运动。有一种说法是这样的：跑步是用一种孤独来对抗另一种孤独。尤其是相对于三大球这样一些运动。特别是当你决定要跑十公里乃至二十公里，很少有人可以和你有相同的时间，相同的配速来完成这样一项运动。所以，当你去长跑的时候，大部分都是一个人，一个人跑一个小时，二个多小时，这段时间给你的独处和思考机会，会让你更清楚的了解自己：你的身体反应，你的极限，你内心最真实的情感。在这样一个快节奏的和充满喧闹的生活里，这样的独处时间真的太少，这也是我喜欢长跑的一点原因吧。
现如今，越来越多的人加入了马拉松的跑者大军。"北马"刚刚落幕，这届北马报名总数超过11万，中签之难堪比汽车摇号。马拉松热也被戏称为"中产阶级狂欢"随着居民收入水平的提高，文化消费需求强劲增长，马拉松就是其中之一。六项公认的世界马拉松大满贯赛事中，有三项在美国：波士顿、纽约和芝加哥，另外三项设在柏林、伦敦东京。而北马一直力争成为第七个大满贯赛事。
按照正常的逻辑，这项漫长而艰辛的运动，参与者应该大多都是血气方刚的青少年，用这种极限的方式来挥洒无处发泄的荷尔蒙。但事实并非如此。17年北马数据显示：完赛选手中20-29岁的有4762人；30-39岁的有10759人；40-49岁的有9482人；50岁以上的有3362人。平均完赛年龄是39岁。是的你没有看错，目前马拉松的主力其实是30-49岁的中年大军——他们既不是老大爷也不是小伙子，姜子牙在这个年龄还没开始钓鱼，耶稣在这个年龄已经死去，而大多数在都市打拼的人们却很相似——眼看着时光如洪水般飞逝却无力挽留，眼看着自己变成十几岁时曾经讨厌和唾弃的那个老朽。
于是，大家面对着同样的问题，事业&家庭交织在一起，上有老下有小，车贷房贷医疗教育各种压力缠身。既然人生没法从头开始压腿练功倒嗓子过仓，那么如果想摆脱自我否定和轮回周期，有时候或许需要找出一些证明自己、感受自己存在的活动。而马拉松，恰恰是最好的载体。出发前，马拉松意味着超越自我，在茫茫人群中为自己加油鼓劲；奔跑中，则意味着突破极限，将自己被禁锢的灵魂打开；在极限反复出现时，跑马意味着坚持再坚持；在撞线的那一刻，人生又圆满了一次，与众多跑友击掌相庆天罡地煞星宿飞扬。跑马的意义就在于把这光缝用独特的方式放大并记录下来，用一次又一次42.195公里丈量脚下的土地，在万千人的鼓励声中放空自己——聆听心跳，把握节奏，终点仿佛一道光，能带给你最自在洒脱的飞翔。
第一次跑马之前，你会怀疑自己是否有这个能力承受这项运动。而在第一次完赛之后，你会发现：生活就像辆开车，有的档位你其实从来没用过。这项运动能带给你的快乐，你渐渐的会将它作为你生活的一种方式，一个部分，甚至像是一种信仰。我体会到这项运动给我带来的乐趣，希望你也一样。
心愿单
翻了翻去年的心愿单，有些差强人意。去年的人，都不在身边。演唱会依旧没等到机会；蹦极也没体验。收集《哈利·波特》原版也依旧遥远。完成的只有半马，全马以及继续旅行，厨艺略有一丝长进。
24岁，不想有太多心愿单。就想简单一些，专注一些，不要作，不要慌，不要纠结，更坚定。
1：希望实现今年生日许的愿
2：继续半马和全马
3：蹦一次极
4：继续在路上
5：看完豆瓣收藏里的书和电影
6：继续收集原版的哈利波特纸质书
7：如果都还有机会的话，听一次 Ta 们的演唱会：李宗盛，刘若英，梁静茹，Bon jovi。
欢迎喜欢出去玩的朋友来找我玩~长期招出行伴侣，新疆，新西兰优先。未来还有100种生活方式想要去过，去体验，去经历，去感受。关心过程，也关心结果。关心个体，也关心人类。24，依旧直道而行。
"I keep my own stories deep inside — every gain and loss, every joy and sorrow and dream, written down by my own hand."
Looking Back
The past year was one of sharpening and upgrading how I understand things. A birthday is mostly just a pretext — a convenient way, at a marker like this, to take stock of the time behind me and the world ahead, and to share how I feel right now. A person is the last to notice how they've changed, and yet the first to feel it.
At 23, what I told myself was this: for years I'd been fixated on being cool, being smart, being interesting, and it took a lot of detours before I'd admit I'm an unfree, boring fool. Better to leave the being-interesting to the people who are genuinely interesting, while I take charge of standing in the audience and clapping sincerely. In the new year I hoped I could be real, be kind, be independent. Come to think of it, that's even harder than the old goal.
How hard is "interesting"? Zhang Peng once told a story about Wang Xing: not long after Meituan was founded, he arranged for a reporter to do a deep-dive interview with Wang Xing. The reporter showed up carrying a fairly new backpack, and Wang Xing, full of curiosity, spent two or three minutes studying all the bag's features and design, pronounced it "not bad," and only then sat down for the interview. When the reporter came back and told the story, the whole editorial office cracked up.
At 24, here's what I want to say to myself: pay more attention to the essence, less to the noise; go all out more, look back less, and don't let your edges get worn down too fast. The past year had its joys and its disappointments; its happiness and its restlessness; its confusion — and I'm still searching, still growing. Looking back on the year, I'll give myself a 63.
Youth Is Like a Rushing River, Never to Return, No Time for Goodbyes
In every one of these cycles, time plunders it all from you — the skin once so taut you could pinch water from it, the youth you rode into battle in, the springtime of a heart with a tiger inside, the flutter of first crushes, the true feelings you treasured, the labels you wore with pride — and hands you back anxiety, fear, disappointment, knots, growth, maturity, equanimity.
One big impression this year: I could clearly feel myself "getting old." I can still be a live wire when I'm exercising — I finished both a half and a full marathon this year — but the feeling runs deep all the same. It came from a few things:
i. After playing full-court for two hours one night, my thighs ached for two days afterward, so much that climbing stairs was a bit of a struggle (though partly because I hadn't played full-court in ages).
ii. I can still run a kilometer in 4 minutes, but I can clearly feel my arms and legs aren't as nimble as before.
iii. Downing a whole bottle of red wine at a team dinner, no problem at all — I just carry on as usual.
iv. Sprints aren't as competitive as they used to be, and staying up late leaves me sleepier and sleepier.
v. A couple of years ago I could still say, with some confidence, that I was born in '94; now I have less and less nerve for it, because everyone around me is born in '97 or '98.
The reason a year feels faster than the last is that time matters more to you each year than the last. Time is far too precious a thing; you know that at any age it's hard to beat. As the twenty-somethings prepare to go off the shelf, the thirties loom, and I watch the forty-somethings sit "waiting for Godot" — standing at each turning marked off in tens, the passing of youth really is a thing to despair over. And it makes you sigh: how good it is to be young.
Because of time and age, anxiety is being peddled everywhere around me. In a lot of developed Western countries, even when the economy tanks completely, people still spend their days zoning out with an easy conscience. Why does China hold the moronic view that at such-and-such an age you should be doing such-and-such a thing? Because China is a place where no one can keep to themselves untouched. And the vast majority of anxieties are tied to age — a man should "stand on his own at thirty," a woman past a certain age is "unmarriageable," etc. People born in the '90s all feel old. Because their peers are all too impressive, and now even their own success would be too late. Jiang Sida was born in '93; TFBoys were born '99–2000; ofo's CEO Dai Wei: 26. Even Forbes publishes its "30 Under 30" list. It's as if everything you see around you now is a "myth" and a "legend." Look closely and you'll find that the biggest anxiety facing friends around me, or friends and elders a bit older, comes down to basically the same thing — "peer pressure": jobs, promotions, buying a house, education, healthcare.
Is anxiety useful? Anxiety is the cheapest inner drive; it's also a perfectly normal, natural state — one you can't change or solve, so learn to accept it and coexist with it. On the surface anxiety makes you uncomfortable, but in fact it's precisely anxiety that hands you the possibility of an action plan, and thereby lets you dodge unanswerable basic questions like the meaning of life. But peddling anxiety all day long is bullshit.
Gao Xiaosong once said: when I was young, before I turned forty, I thought "free of doubt at forty" meant you'd finally understood it all, knew everything. Then I hit forty and found: "free of doubt" actually means you no longer want to understand the things you don't understand. When you're young you want to understand everything, want to see clean through everyone, even want desperately to understand this society, this era. But you can't — you may not even understand the person you love most sitting across from you. Yet when you're young you so want to understand, because you always feel that not understanding something is the anxiety of life; only when you're old do you realize: that anxiety was youth. Without the anxiety, the youth is gone.
The demands I make of my soon-to-be-24 self haven't changed:
Don't waste time analyzing, let alone imitating, other people, and try not to let others' excellence become a source of your own anxiety. Find what you truly love and enjoy, then hold to it unwaveringly, pouring in your precious youth, time, energy, and resources.
Don't keep trying to prove yourself; look back a few years from now and you'll find it a very childish way of thinking and behaving. Self-respect without real strength behind it is, frankly, worthless.
Think more about what won't change, even if its payoff cycle is a long one.
Finding a good partner is extremely difficult, and most people, in fact, don't have one. What you have to do is keep getting to know yourself and keep making yourself worthy of a good partner.
The Most Important Thing for a Person Is to Know Themselves
Your twenties are an important decade in life for everyone on earth. The pitiable thing about our generation: born in the '90s, 25 to 30, very pragmatic and yet trailing idealism, with all kinds of pluralistic values clashing inside our heads. A lot of people have no interests, don't know what to pursue, don't understand the meaning of marriage but aren't happy single either; we've never been through real storms, good luck has never struck, we lack nothing and yet have nothing — lonely, too many of us too stressed to sleep at night, going to work by day without a single wound on our whole, unbroken bodies, so that even venting feels overwrought.
The first thing loneliness taught me is to focus on myself. There's nothing in this world more important than knowing yourself — a person who can't read themselves fully will inevitably read the world into some narrow dead end.
By nature I'm not good with words, cold about most things; I don't deliberately cater to anyone or try to please. I'm most at ease alone, with no need to feel uneasy. My temperament runs to the quiet — dull-edged, slow to warm, deeply attached. Sometimes bold and careful, and plenty of times fairly timid. Grateful enough, but I absolutely hold grudges too. A lot of people think I'm easygoing — that's because you've never seen me turn. As Ma Dong said: to be misunderstood is the fate of anyone who expresses themselves; we have nothing to complain about.
I've long been taken for an artsy youth, but I know full well I'm not one — I just have some hobbies that look artsy. As a collecting fiend, I love collecting everything tied to memory: visas, entry-exit stamps, postcards, maps, postmarks; and also Kobe jerseys, marathon medals, and so on. These hobbies aren't artsy; they're just a way to widen the thickness of a life, and to leave myself more memories on the road of aging — a road there's no coming back from, where even with a decent memory I can feel, very concretely, my energy and brain cells failing to keep pace with change. I'm not the least bit artsy — "goofball youth" and "sporty youth" fit me a lot better.
I'm now more and more willing to accept that this world is simply full of great difference and great incomprehensibility. Even though my curiosity is still as ravenous as appetite and my thirst for knowledge as intense as lust, there's no way — and no need — to know the cause and course of every single thing. I often remind myself: rein in your vanity, your urge to show off, and take on the cleverness that's forever itching to grab the spotlight. I'm less and less inclined to chase the most cutting-edge, hottest concepts; I only care about what I genuinely love, and about experiencing it wholeheartedly.
People used to say the premise of tolerance is understanding. Actually no — the premise of tolerance is your accepting the fact that "this world is simply infinite and different." We don't need to understand so many things: no need to understand how infinite the world is, or why each person is different. In fact, every identity a person holds is a form of self-kidnapping, and only losing is the road to freedom.
I once thought the important people and things would slowly recede with time; by now, all that's around me is two or three close friends. And the books I've grown used to reading on my Kindle. When no one's around to chat, I chat with myself now and then — there's nothing more important than "letting me understand me."
The Essence of a Person Is the Sum of All Social Relations
From college to now, one thing I've been doing all along is searching for a direction I love and am good at, and for a career choice — a question I've consulted and talked over with many friends. Besides career, the other thing I've been doing all along is getting to know myself, character included. A friend once said, "You've always been clear about what you want — that's great." But it's exactly the opposite. As a Libra, making choices is what I agonize over most. I've always envied the kind of person who knew from childhood what they liked, or who found the profession or industry they wanted to work in by the time they graduated.
Since freshman year I've interned in Beijing, consulting, seeking advice, and hustling my way through four or five mainstream industries in turn; I've asked and talked through questions about career choice and paths with lots of older students and industry elders. Anyone who's talked with me knows what I'm getting at. Hustling my way to now, on my career goal — what I truly love and want to do — I've finally found some feel and inspiration. I'm also more and more fond of, and looking forward to, weekends now, because I can properly relax and review. Especially this year, at work, I've gained a deeper level of understanding and awareness about society and interpersonal relationships, industries, tracks, and career development.
After starting work, the complex, varied, ever-shifting web of interpersonal relationships caught me a bit off guard and, for a while, left me quite baffled. But from another angle, it also helped me quickly get familiar with some of the rules by which society and industries run. Beijing is a city whose information, projects, and institutions crush the sum of Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Shenzhen — but its rancor and noise are the heaviest too.
One word I don't much like in life is "brother." In the north especially, the word gets used far too often, yet the number who actually treat you like a brother is vanishingly small. Most are just running their own little calculations behind it, using the word to cozy up, working out how to skim some benefit off a "brother." I hope friends are just friends, clients are just clients, and brothers are real brothers — please stop insulting the word, thank you. I loathe that 99% of fake "brothers," and I'm grateful for that 1% of real ones.
Also, don't be afraid that offending people will get you nowhere. Ninety percent of the people around you, you can afford to offend. The most they can do is annoy you a little; the big shots who could crush you with a flick of a finger don't have time to bother with you. There's no need to keep bowing and yielding just for fear of offending someone. Once you realize you can afford to cross most people, you stop endlessly compromising to "keep up appearances," and stop constantly letting others touch your boundaries. Even nations build high walls and electric fences along their borders to let other countries know not to go wandering where they shouldn't. Letting others know you're a person with a sense of boundaries is the foundation of all good relationships — anyone who sincerely wants to be your friend knows that respect is the price of admission.
This year my grasp of industries and tracks runs deeper than before. On work and career choice, I've told many people: I'm an extremely interest-driven person. For things I'm interested in, I have enormous drive and appetite to understand, grasp, and learn. Someone once asked me: what do you do if you don't know what you like? I've gotten a feel for some of it now, but haven't fully found it either. Still, I've come to some new understandings:
i. The best path is, of course, to do what you love. If you can fuse hobby, skill, and work, you're a winner at life. If you don't know what you like, go by instinct; if you have no instinct, do whatever you run into. Don't fear choosing — if you don't like it, you can still change. Don't fear choosing wrong and taking a detour; choosing wrong is inevitable. Everyone makes a great many choices; the key is raising your success rate at choosing right, not fearing you'll choose wrong. A person may make thousands upon thousands of choices in a lifetime; how to keep your important choices from going wrong, or going wrong less, is what matters.
ii. Shift the dimension by which you measure life. The economic base determines the superstructure — whatever measuring stick you have, that's the behavior you get. In school, exam scores and rankings are the most important stick. In college, landing a good job becomes the most important baton; after starting work, our every action revolves around raises and promotions, and our every joy and sorrow revolves around raises and promotions, etc. All of that seems fine on the surface, but a lot of people may be overlooking something more essential — free time and happiness. And those two can serve perfectly well as another measure of life.
Around me, and in society at large, a lot of people wear themselves out chasing fame and fortune, forgetting to ask whether the thing they're busy with right now is what they were meant to do, forgetting to ask whether they're happy. This is the widespread problem: the dimension by which society measures life's meaning and value has gone wrong. We care too much about external fame and gain, too much about outside opinion, instead of asking ourselves: what do I actually want to do, and am I happy? And when fame and fortune conflict with what our hearts truly yearn for, with our own happiness, we choose fame and fortune without a second thought, believing that with fame and fortune we can solve everything. But in the end it's all for nothing.
Financial freedom is a phrase that's caught fire these past couple of years, and a goal a lot of people chase. The way I see it, so-called "financial freedom" is essentially having enough "free time" — no longer needing to sell your time to earn income, but being free to spend your time doing what you truly love, want to do, feel passionate about. And in the doing, you find the meaning of life. The related state — happiness — is a joy that emanates naturally. Of course, it goes without saying that switching to these two dimensions to measure your goals takes a certain accumulation of time and an economic base.
College students' job hunting today is, to a large degree, brainwashed and poisoned by certain job-hunting media accounts. Trading on information asymmetry and industry halos — VC/PE, investment banking — they lead batch after batch of students astray, students who don't understand themselves that well and have no real grasp of the industry. Once inside, they find that, one, they don't like it; two, they have no foundation; three, they have no resources. This is the current state and the problem of student job hunting in China: one, they can't decide on an industry (e.g. internet or finance); two, they've decided on an industry but can't see the optimal path (e.g. wanting to do investing, they think joining a tier-2 investment firm straight out of school must be a better choice than first doing Big Four and then jumping ship); three, they've picked a path but can't see the roadmap.
When Memory Is the Last Postcard You Mail to Yourself
Flying off to bum around Turkey solo for 15 days is maybe one of the most fired-up things I've ever done. Truly solo. The most beautiful things in life — travel, say, or art — shouldn't be interrogated for their "meaning." They're as natural as eating and sleeping, part of the way we live.
When I think back carefully, these years of travel — the friends met along the way, the memories left behind — are some of the most beautiful memories I have. These people and events, when you recall them, feel like peeling an onion: you're overcome, tears streaming down your face.
I made no small number of friends while traveling, and one very good friend I met in Taiwan. We ran into each other in Hualien. Taiwan is a great place to collect stamps, and I'd run out of postage stamps; she happened to have some, so I asked whether she could sell me a few to tide me over, and she just gave me two — I was deeply grateful. We parted to continue our own journeys, and who'd have thought we'd meet again at the next place. We hung out on the road, and she also loves collecting postcards. Later we added each other on WeChat and became friends. Since coming home we've kept in touch, each of us having helped, supported, and encouraged the other. We often receive the postcards we mail each other, and when we travel we think to send one to the other.
In 2016 she finished her master's and got a Shanghai hukou. But at the time she felt her current life wasn't the one she wanted, and she wanted to spend a gap year in New Zealand (the fabled working holiday), so she came to ask my opinion. My first reaction was deep admiration for her courage. I know something about gap years and had wanted to try one myself — but for one thing I had no savings and no opening, and I didn't even have the courage she had to take that step. Choices at a crossroads like that, I don't dare draw conclusions or decide lightly for someone else. We discussed it for quite a while, and in the end she decided to quit and go to Australia. Later I helped her snag a New Zealand travel visa, the kind that's getting harder and harder to grab in China. In the end she got the visa as hoped, went off to a rare life experience, and has since returned to Shanghai to start a new life.
Come to think of it, it's been nearly four years since we met in Taiwan. Every time I look back on it I can't help but marvel: what a strange and wonderful world. Maybe it really is fate that lets these people truly cross your path. And that, too, is one of the meanings of travel. May you wander the road free and easy and a little muddled, taking in the view — when memory is the last postcard you mail to yourself.
A Person Is a Function of Time
If one hour is worth 10 yuan, then slice it in half — half an hour — and it's not even worth 5; slice it in half again, each 15 minutes, and it's not even worth 1. Carve your time into pieces, and your time is worth nothing.
These years, you scroll and read all kinds of analysis reports every day, spend enormous time discussing Brexit and the Vanke–Baoneng showdown and other financial headlines, share your own takes and inspirational lines every day, work hard to predict the next wave and the next business opportunity. And so you're well informed on the hot topics, your belly full of chicken soup, rich in talking points, able to speak in polished paragraphs — yet after all these years you're still nothing. Those resounding analysis reports and those spotlight business events may hold great opportunities, but for you the most real opportunity is still in your own hands. Do you remember the most buzzed-about news headlines or hot words on your phone lately? You probably can't recall 80% of them — you can only recall that they were once so wildly popular. As the saying goes: flowers in full brocade, oil poured on a raging fire. When we look back on the past, we've remembered nothing at all.
We gradually become caged beasts of Weibo, Moments, etc. Our focus shifts from ourselves to the trivia outside, liking each other's posts and sounding off every day. If each piece of news is 100 characters and you read 100 a day, in a month your reading volume can hit 300,000 characters. And what does 300,000 mean: the equivalent of dozens of short stories, 3–10 novellas (30k–100k characters), one novel (over 100k). Our tombstones may someday read: this person loved to read — dozens of public-account articles a day, hundreds of Weibo posts.
This year I've kept subtracting. A person's life is so short; to understand a bit more of what you truly care about, to experience a bit more of what you truly love, is already lucky enough. Right now Moments is switched off again, I've unfollowed a batch of public accounts, quit n-many groups, etc. I'm more and more averse to the kind of discussion that leaves people feeling they understand everything — that stuff is, for the most part, social currency. Defining your own boundaries and admitting your own ignorance is a rare quality.
One realization this year: a lot of people misread "connections." In truth, kids talk about connections; adults only look at interests. Connections aren't how many people you know — what matters is who knows you. So sometimes don't blame others for not replying to your WeChat; fundamentally it's still that your level isn't there, that your priority isn't high enough. As the ancients said: poor in a busy city, no one asks after you; rich deep in the mountains, distant relatives appear. Don't worry that you don't know enough people or that you're being marginalized — having that worry is, at bottom, still that you're not strong enough. What you should worry about is where your own goals lie and what kind of person you want to become. As long as you're strong enough — strong enough to become a sun everyone must gather round for warmth — then you'll absolutely make people not dare to overlook you, and have them orbiting around you. Rather than fearing you're a nobody, better to first work hard to become a somebody.
Also, in truth most people on your friends list don't care what you post; even frequent attempts to make your presence felt won't draw their attention — only the people who truly like you will do the reading comprehension. So post whatever you want, since no one likes you anyway.
Every Marathoner Carries a Greece in Their Heart
One big "achievement" this past year was finishing a half marathon and the Beijing Marathon over the past six months. I used to call myself Traveler, Runner, Reader, Sneakerhead. Of the four, Runner is probably the best fit and the closest to the truth right now. My running rhythm is usually in the afternoon, and every time I finish and watch the sun set in the west, I'm brimming with joy and enjoyment. That joy peaks after every 5K, every 10K, when the world goes so quiet you can hear only your own breathing. Looking at a T-shirt soaked through with sweat, my heart is full of confidence and satisfaction. I hope this joy will keep me company for a lifetime. This high, forever without a comedown.
Running, long-distance running especially, is a lonely sport, and one that lets you know yourself better. There's a saying that goes: running is using one kind of loneliness to fight another kind. Especially compared with sports like the big three ball games. When you decide to run 10K or even 20K, very few people can match your time and your pace to finish it. So when you go for a long run, you're mostly on your own — running an hour, two-plus hours alone, and that stretch of solitude and time to think lets you know yourself more clearly: your body's responses, your limits, the truest feelings inside you. In a life this fast-paced and full of noise, such solitary time is truly too rare — which is part of why I love long-distance running.
More and more people are joining the marathoners' ranks these days. The Beijing Marathon just wrapped up; this edition drew over 110,000 registrations, and the lottery odds were as brutal as a car-plate lottery. The marathon craze is also jokingly called the "middle-class carnival." As residents' incomes rise, demand for cultural consumption surges strongly, and the marathon is one such outlet. Of the six recognized World Marathon Majors, three are in the U.S.: Boston, New York, and Chicago; the other three are in Berlin, London, and Tokyo. The Beijing Marathon has long been vying to become the seventh Major.
By ordinary logic, a sport this long and grueling should be dominated by hot-blooded teenagers, using this extreme method to burn off hormones with nowhere else to go. But it isn't so. 2017 Beijing Marathon data show: among finishers, 4,762 were 20–29; 10,759 were 30–39; 9,482 were 40–49; 3,362 were 50 and over. The average finisher's age was 39. Yes, you read that right — the main force in marathons today is actually the middle-aged army of 30 to 49. They're neither old-timers nor young lads. At this age Jiang Ziya hadn't yet started fishing, and Jesus was already dead — while most people grinding it out in the city look much alike: watching time race by like a flood with no way to hold it back, watching themselves turn into the very fogeys they once disliked and despised at fifteen.
And so everyone faces the same problems: career and family tangled together, elders above and children below, car loans and mortgages, healthcare and education, all sorts of pressure clinging to them. Since life can't be started over — going back to stretch, drill, retrain your voice, and re-serve your apprenticeship — then if you want to break out of self-denial and the cycle, sometimes you may need to find some activity that proves yourself and lets you feel your own existence. And the marathon happens to be the best vessel. Before the start, the marathon means transcending yourself, cheering yourself on amid the vast crowd; mid-run, it means breaking your limits, opening up your imprisoned soul; when the limit surfaces again and again, running means holding on, and holding on more; at the moment you cross the line, life is made whole once more, high-fiving your fellow runners in celebration, the stars of heaven and earth ablaze. The meaning of running a marathon lies in taking this sliver of light and, in a singular way, magnifying it and recording it — measuring the ground beneath your feet with one 42.195 kilometers after another, emptying yourself amid the cheers of tens of thousands: listening to your heartbeat, keeping your rhythm, the finish line like a beam of light that can carry you into the freest, most unfettered flight.
Before your first marathon, you'll doubt whether you have the ability to withstand this sport. And after your first finish, you'll find: life is like driving a car — there are gears you've actually never used. The joy this sport can bring you, you'll gradually make into a way of life, a part of it, even something like a faith. I've felt the pleasure this sport brings me, and I hope you feel it too.
The Wishlist
I flipped through last year's wishlist — some of it fell short. The people from last year aren't around. The concert still never got its chance; bungee jumping went unfelt. Collecting the original English Harry Potter is still far off. All I completed were the half marathon, the full marathon, and continuing to travel, with cooking improving just a touch.
At 24, I don't want much of a wishlist. I just want things simpler, more focused — don't be difficult, don't panic, don't agonize, be more resolute.
Make the wish I made on this year's birthday come true.
Keep up the half and full marathons.
Go bungee jumping.
Keep being on the road.
Finish the books and films saved in my Douban lists.
Keep collecting the original English Harry Potter books.
If the chance still comes for all of them, go to their concerts: Jonathan Lee, Rene Liu, Fish Leong, Bon Jovi.
Friends who love to travel, come find me~ Long-term opening for a travel companion — Xinjiang and New Zealand get priority. Ahead of me there are still a hundred ways of living I want to live, to experience, to go through, to feel. I care about the process, and I care about the result. I care about the individual, and I care about humanity. At 24, still going straight ahead.
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