Tuesday, 18 July 2006

Memory

今天在办公室收拾东西整理资料,把几大叠原本堆积在各个角落的文件剪报论文信函等等,一张一张,翻阅。这些都是几年下来累积而成的。

我的办公室,很多人说不大像是属于大学教授,因为太整齐了。 i don't really take this as a compliment though. 这种整齐,也就是意味着我多数时候并没有把自己掩埋在纸山书海之中。不过,想想,也许不必把办公室像最近那些晚报早报都在报道的,堆满杂物而连人都没有一席之地 (literally!) 的情况一样吧。

其实,我大概每半年逢学校假期时都要整理一次,多数时候,是翻阅一两叠资料之后,就再堆回原来的一叠,再推到墙角,让这些纸张继续被冷落一个学期。也许下意识中,我是故意不要将之分类收拾,因为,如此一来,纸张归位后将藏在办公室中的某一个柜子的暗角,或者某一个书架上的文件夹,那将是几乎注定永不见天日的命运了。

今天,翻阅着这些纸张,其中有:
  • 2001年的某一个行政会议的纪录——不知道 action 一栏中的备注是否已经执行;
  • 1997年的一叠剪报——是我还在英国时母亲每周剪了寄给我的,都是一些文化艺术类的新闻和评论;
  • 朋友认为我会有兴趣的发表在 obscure journal 里的学术论文——有兴趣的东西往往并不是生活中的 priority;
  • 每次到(回)台北时带回来的各种戏剧演出的宣传卡片盒节目单——设计就像台北一样杂乱而多姿多彩;
  • 一张写着某些人物、情节和事件的 A5 paper ——噢,那是一个已经开始构思而还没有动笔的剧本!什么时候才会有上演的机会呢?
  • 一封用工整的英文手写的信,是从德国寄来的——天啊,现在还有人用手写信的!掀起信件,是这个写信的博士研究生某年访问我之后整齐打字的 transcript.
  • 一张学生送给我的教师节卡片,两颗学生送给我的糖……
当然还有许多我从不同期刊、论文集中印出来的文章,以及各种会议记录和公函,等等。那些倒是乏善可陈。

每一年,我大概就是有两次到三次,翻阅着这些纸张,借整理之名,走进记忆里一回。就是那么匆匆的一两个钟头,有时在记忆里耽溺得忘了时间,回过神来竟已是过了两三个钟头。有点懊恼,有点恍惚,有点因为忆起而被激起的活力,有点因为不得不被迫回到现实而生起的惆怅。

那些组屋里堆满的杂物,隐藏着多少堪与不堪回味的记忆啊——怎么人们都把它看成垃圾?

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Interesting, why ONE Teachers' Day card only? By right, such dedicated, caring and popular teacher like u should harvest an abundance of appreciations. Uni students not expressive?

柯思仁 said...

i have a drawer of cards in my office. i keep them all. that one was left out hidding in the piles of papers. but, you know, i may not be a very popular teacher as i'm usually very serious and demanding.

Anonymous said...

Forgive me for trespassing into your memory lane. Memories are only bestowed to the beholder. That's why it is significant. :)

Thank Goodness. I have not lost mine yet.

feicui

柯思仁 said...

you have to revisit it every now and then. perhaps i'm getting old, so much history to tell...

Anonymous said...

We'll all get old. Who gets younger anyway? :) Memory are important because we value them, yet at the same time we take it for granted without realising that it will fade with time.

I am a keeper of memories too. I remember my pri sch and sec sch days. I remember my teachers. I remember my great granny who tried teaching me to count in Malay but I had never get beyond the no "5". As much as I hope to keep these memories with me, I realise that it is slowly fading away and I am afraid...

Life is full of memories. We all have our stories to tell. "Revisting memories" sounds deliberate but yet so necessary

feicui