I know in my last post I said that Iff would still be updated on occasion, but that is no longer the case. I’ve moved again since creating an account on LiveJournal; I am now blogging via Dreamwidth.org
Song lyrics, translations, whatever you visit this blog for are in the process of being moved over to my Dreamwidth blog. That’s all for iff.blogsome.com!
As of today, I have a LiveJournal account. [nijibug.livejournal.com]
Initially, I did this with the intention of lurking in some fandoms, though after further examination, I found that not only does LJ fulfill all the purposes of a blog, but I actually have friends who use it. Well, that has led me to this decision.
No, I am not “deactivating” this blog; I will still update it on occasion (song translations, not to worry). But in terms of being a “chapter of my life”, I am drawing the curtains on Il faisait frais[e], the snows of my yesteryear…
Blue is a beautiful color. I haven’t always thought that. Actually, I never thought of blue as my color. I used to be a firebird. Red, orange, yellow, mahogany. Phoenix bedspread.
It was after I came to Nville. Jessica thought blue was my color. Started dropping hints. Bought me blue clothes. Made me blue jewelry. I didn’t embrace the idea of blue right away. And I still haven’t embraced it completely. But I have since realized that the color blue and I have what in Chinese is called 缘分: a sort of destiny together. The significance of the symbols of sky and water in my life is irrefutable. Sorairo-Magatama and The Gift of Rain. The music I listen to and the music I write. Blue is now without a doubt my favorite color.
I have yet to learn to use the color blue in my art. It still comes out muddy and resistant to flow. But that is due in part to the red-earth nature of SAND DANCE. This is not a problem; SAND DANCE was conceived in my childhood, my firebird days. It is meant to reflect - no - to embody that passion from the noontide of my life.
So while I bask in my sea-sky-blue, I remember the fierce joy that fueled my imagination and gave birth to a world, a music, a story that continues to wend. I will take that fire in my hands and form it into a searing, blue-bright star. It will shine on its own, complete, without me.
That is the long and short of it; the whole of my life’s goal. To bring my one story to a fitting end.
Happy 6th Anniversary, SAND DANCE.
In memory of Charlene W. Sun (1974-2009)… http://news.deviantart.com/article/72185/
And afterwards, all of my tears
began to overflow
[Last night I dreamt of dragons
This morning when they came
I let them take me with them
And left the world the same]
One night she dreamt of dragons
This morning when we knew
Her spirit had grown wings then
We mourned her as she flew
Tonight let’s dream of dragons
Tomorrow we’ll recall
The one who dreamt of dragons
And shared them with us all.
The dragons’ song, so wild and strong,
fell from the sky like rain
“A scholar should never waste their time drawing cartoons,” says Rouhui’s father.
A bottle of ink and two black pens beside an open notebook. My muse from Malaysia shares with me another glimpse of her life. The ink drawing depicts a young man holding a book and wielding a brush against the night sky. She entitles her picture “window”, for it symbolizes “an escape where my imagination speaks of my dreams and hidden desires.”
Rouhui is a chemical engineering biochem major, an archetypal path of study for a young person of Chinese descent. She tells me often about the struggles of schoolwork, but her cheerfulness is unflagging, and more often than not, she manages to inspire and console me seemingly without effort. But Rouhui’s true passion and talent lie in art, especially the ability to ply traditional media to her will. Each piece comes with a story, anecdotes from her childhood, snippets from her daily life; they are her messages of encouragement to students, artists, young people across the globe
In “window”, Rouhui describes the pressure she feels from her family - in particular, her father - to abandon her art: “Ashamed, I bury myself in books in his presence. But the more I read, the more I end up drawing something in his absence. ” While expressing her desire to escape, at the same time, Rouhui never fails to present a determined face with her fierce creativity.
Since we met through a digital picture book project in 2005, Rouhui and I have been escaping in each other, she through my music and I through her art. For a long time, though, I never quite got my finger on what exactly it was that - on a deeper level- drew us to each other. Then, I saw “window” and, as if remembering, I realized.
Last year, I read an article in National Geographic entitled Gilded Age, Gilded Cage. It was a case study following a girl named Bella (Jiaqing Zhou) from the age of four to the age of fifteen. Growing up in Shanghai, Bella’s life exhibits many of the defining aspects of a single child coming of age as a part of China’s expanding middle class - all the competition, stress, frustration, and self-doubt. 
Emerging from elementary school, children must take standardized tests in order to battle their way into the top middle schools, and at the end of middle school, an even more ruthless round of testing winnows out those fit for the very best high schools. As for college entrance exams…let’s just say that China has a scarcely imaginable rate of teenage suicides and leave it at that.
But in spite of the cut-throat environment, Bella remains a headstrong girl - a bit of a diva - with a tendency toward loquaciousness and a startlingly eloquent pen. Reading her description of her final days of middle school, hot tears sprang into my eyes: “I sit in my middle-school classroom, and the teacher wants us to say good-bye to childhood. I feel at a loss. Happiness is like the twinkling stars suffusing the night sky of childhood. I want only more and more stars. I don’t want to see the dawn.”
Her sentiments cut a melting swathe across my heart as my thoughts cried out to her, with her, “Why?” Why are children like us - and yes, we are children - forced to see the dawn? Children of Asia, whether or not we live in our motherlands, can never seem to leave the tethers of the motherland behind. We are driven by our parents, reminded by society, that unless we do as we are told, unless we achieve as we are expected - and more, we are worth less than nothing at all.
I myself am unspeakably lucky.
Tian must do battle to keep her construction site standing in the present; Rouhui must climb through her window to escape the scorch of shame; Miyako and her sunflowers must feed and thrive on dust and exhaust.
As a child with progressive Asian parents, I watch their undulating griefs and triumphs, and I feel that I am blessed beyond belief to have the opportunity to be myself without fear.
As an adult with promises, I am both honored and inspired to be their friend and to bear witness to their courage and integrity.
Our generation is at a tough transition in Asian society. We have no right but to stay strong and fight for our due. Our lives are a bridge to a better future.
I conclude with my translation of a very fitting song, a piece that will tie this journal entry together. The song is a multi-genre work of art in itself, beginning with a classical arrangement, transitioning into rock and then into rap
Lyrics and translation on new blog:
http://nijibug.dreamwidth.org/19022.html
Listen to WIP:
VERSE 1:
If I had known you as a boy
Listening to blades of grass wage war in the wind
Chasing pale moths that rise like souls out of battle
VERSE 2:
If I had grown up at your side
Losing our shadows in a forest of cornstalks
Flapping from the field at the end of each day
A pair of scared crows
BRIDGE:
If I had shared your stepping stones
Would you still have died alone?
Would you still have died alone?
CHORUS:
If we had been children together
If we had grown up side by side
Would you still have died so lonely
If I had known you as a boy?
(repeat)
CODA:
Souls out of battle
Crows from the corn
Children together
The day we were born
_ _ _
Here is Anne-Claire’s enchanting French rendition:
VERSE 1:
Si je t’avais connu petit
Écoutant la guerre de l’herbe dans le vent
Chassant les esprits papillons sortis de batailleVERSE 2:
Si j’avais grandi avec toi
Perdant nos ombres dans un forêt de maïs
Quittant d’un battement d’aile à la tombée du jour
Une paire de corbeaux apeurésBRIDGE:
Si j’avais partagé tes peines
Serais-tu quand même mort seul?
Serais-tu quand même mort seul?CHORUS:
Si nous avions étais enfants ensembles
Si nous avions grandi côte à côte
Serais-tu quand même mort si seul
Si je t’avais connu petitCODA:
Esprits sortis de guerre
Corbeaux du maïs
Enfants ensembles
Depuis la naissance
And here is Miyako’s adorable Japanese translation:
（共にいる子供達・戦から抜けた魂）
Tomo-ni iru kodomotachi/Ikusa-kara nuketa tamashiiVERSE 1:
（もし貴方を少年の時から知っていれば
草の刃が風と戦争を巻き起こす音を聴き
戦から抜けた魂の様に舞い上がる青白い蛾を追いかけただろう）
Moshi anata-wo shounen-no tokikara shitteireba
Kusa-no yaiba-ga kaze-to sensou-wo makiokosu oto-wo kiki
Ikusa-kara nuketa tamashii-no youni maiagaru aojiroi ga-wo oikaketadarouVERSE 2:
（もし貴方の傍で育ったなら
トウモロコシ畑の林の中で私達の影を無くして
日が落ちる頃にそこから羽ばたく
二羽の怯えるカラス）
Moshi anata-no soba-de sotatta-nara
Toumorokoshi-batake-no hayashi-no naka-de watashitachi-no kage-wo nakushite
Hi-ga ochiru koro-ni sokokara habataku
Niwa-no obieru karasuBRIDGE:
（もし私があなたと同じ踏み石を共有したなら
それでもあなたは一人で死ぬの？
それでもあなたは一人で死ぬの？）
Moshi watashi-ga anata-to onaji fumiishi-wo kyouyuu shitanara
Soredemo anata-wa hitori-de shinuno?
Soredemo anata-wa hitori-de shinuno?CHORUS:
（もし私達が一緒に子供だったなら
もし私達が共に育ったなら
それでもあなたはそんな孤独に死んだのか
もし少年としてあなたを知っていたなら？）
Moshi watashitachi-ga issho-ni kodomo dattanara
Moshi watashitachi-ga tomo-ni sodattanara
Soredemo anata-wa sonnna kodoku-ni shinndanoka
Moshi shounen-toshite anatawo shitteitanara?CODA:
（戦争から抜けだした魂
トウモロコシ畑のカラス
生まれた日から共にいた
子供達）
Sensou-kara nukedashita tamashii
Toumorokoshi-batake-no karasu
Umareta hi-kara tomo-ni ita
Kodomotachi
Thank you all so much! <3
Got myself a 4shared account today. Should be handy for storing music. :] Anyway, here’s some of what I have on hand so far…
“Dapple”
An impromptu (hence the stumbling & mistakes) on the piano. Inspired by -achiru-’s GORGEOUS manga, RAVEN.
If the flash player above isn’t loading, the problem probably isn’t my blog or your computer but more likely with 4shared.com, which is where I host all my music files. Try refreshing the page or visit xuelian.4shared.com to see if you can listen there…
…isn’t nearly so bad when your amazing friends smother you with love and TOTALLY undeserved presents! ;o; THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!
I’ve already dedicated a post to achiru’s wonderful watercolor…
So here are the others which brought tears to my eyes!
A painting from my sweet Rouhui!
"I found XueLian’s works - particularly her self-composed music, an inspiring fairytale that tells a story of their own. I always listen to them while I draw or cg. I owe many of my fantasy works to her."
I’m in love with the bold, solid colors. The cohesion of the painting has such an uplifting effect! And the painted look itself, the fact that there’s no lineart to be seen, that just brings tears of amazement to my eyes! ;o;
Thank you so much, pchan…and how can I ever repay you? Y.Y We must collaborate on a theme song for your manga. I promise!
From *RoseMuse, Eiri and Ceru from SAND DANCE.
How is it that everyone draws my own OCs better than I do?? ||OTL
(Uhhh, because they are all better artists, first of all~)
I am so not worthy… Thank you, RoseMuse. I cannot tell you how much of a treat it is to see my brainchildren rendered in your pwnsome style!!
And…aargh, I know I’m ethically not supposed to pick favorites, but…THIS IS MY FAVORITE! >o<
Otto Silas Ruthven, a custom-made vampire crochet creature from the one and only lovely and talented Jess. <3 My birthday request was for something inspired by the ever-so-gallant Silas from Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book, but I couldn’t help wanting a bit of all my favorite vamps in the name. x3 Otto Chriek is from Pratchett’s Discworld series, by the way, and he is an absolute sweetheart. (Hambly’s Ysidro got the boot for being under the influence of GACKT. |D)
His liddle cravat is made from napkin. :]
Also, Tian-tian bought me C. S. Lewis’s Till We Have Faces. Lewis was not kidding at all when he proclaimed it his best book. I finished it on Christmas night and basically sobbed myself to sleep. It was beyond beautiful. It was desolate and heartbreaking. Tian never fails to amaze me with her impeccable and uncanny gift for finding the perfect…well…gift! How do you do it, daughter?!? And don’t tell me you research the ppl you buy for. I’ve tried it and it doesn’t work. You must be psychic. ;_; Thank you so, so much for the wonderful story!
And for any C. S. Lewis fan who hasn’t read Till We Have Faces…GOOD GOD ARE YOU MISSING OUT. Go pick up a copy, now. It’s definitely one of my favorite books ever.
You know…I wonder what I was in a past life. Some sort of minor deity, most probably. There’s no way I’ve done anything in this life to deserve such awesome friends! T0T
So, today I got accepted to the University of Michigan….
Got a warm reception with these two tonight:
FROM ELISE
The air is full of spider-threads, Father
you were right. When I went running through the forest
and the air was cold enough to bite, I saw leaves
suspended in mid-fall. Then the sun lit up—
like nets catching fire—innumerable tendrils draped
looped, whorled, crisscrossed, suddenly silver
in the treetops. I want to tell you, Father
I was there.
The sky was new, but the clouds were hoary
and the wind that blew tore from me
everything I could say, but in the choppy waves
of the pond I was lapping, there were eleven white swans
who would never lose faith in their only sister.
Some wings are lost, but one remains in memory of
her nettle-stung fingers and the dirt of the grave
beneath her nails. Don’t lock me out of your heart, Father
Because there is a room with no windows
in each person, there is a door, and leaves
gather in piles against the stoop, herded
by the autumn wind. Wait there
and all your memories will come floating back
like the wisps of gossamer which spiders weave:
you could make a coat from them
that the winter cannot break
Father, spider threads silver in your black hair
it is time to leave, and soon I will not know you,
but be glad that in an outpour of memory
words lost in the deluge
at least there will be a misty forest,
a pond and the wing of a swan. Listen;
there is a story of a journey in the wingbeats
They tell you of the leaves that never fall
(Inspired by The Mushroom River by Xue Di)
A SMART COOKIE
Today, I saw a cookie
Crossing the road;
I stopped it
and asked where it came from.
“Just at noon,”
said the cookie,
“I was taken from a jar
And placed on a plate;
A glass of milk was poured,
and when nobody was looking,
I tumbled off the table,
I rolled across the floor,
And as soon as it was open, then
I sidled out the door.”
Today, I saw a cookie
Crossing the road;
I stopped it
and asked where it was going.
“Just over there,”
said the cookie,
“It isn’t very far;
You see that tree across the road?
I’m going to sit under it
for a bit;
I hope to make it there
ahead of the rain.”
Today, I met a cookie
Crossing the road;
We parted ways
and it left me hoping
that if I ever am a cookie
I will be wise enough to know
How to get up and go
before it’s too late,
And intrepid enough to face
Life without an umbrella.
In the forest of my heart
Squirrels chase, small birds dart
Sunlight slips and softly drips
Between the sifting branches
Early birthday gift from the wonderful and talented *-achiru-. <3
Watercolor sketch of Eirendi and Ceru from SAND DANCE (see earthen vessel under Links…even though I haven’t updated in ages ). I’m so flattered by the style and coloring; it’s absolutely perfect.
Honestly, if I can get SAND DANCE published…achiru is doing the illustrations even if I have to split the earnings 50/50. That’s how badly I want her art. xD
Be sure to drop by achiru’s deviantART gallery, and don’t miss her mesmerizing manga, RAVEN!
And once again, THANK YOU ACHIRU~
This post has moved:
http://nijibug.dreamwidth.org/
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