Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

2025.04.13

After two days of tinkering, I finally set up my Hugo blog using the reimu theme.

Unsatisfied with the response speed of my previous Typecho blog, I decided to migrate my blog again. (Although Typecho is already quite lightweight, the poor cloud server and bandwidth severely limited access and article loading speeds.)

After abandoning dynamic solutions, the static options available were essentially Hexo, Hugo, Jekyll, etc. I chose Hugo simply because of its slogan: The world’s fastest framework for building websites.

I’ll gradually move the content from my old blog over here during this time. I looked up some Typecho-to-Hugo conversion methods, but most were outdated and unusable (Typecho and PHP are too old, which is another reason for my switch). I’ll have to resort to the tedious method of manually exporting articles, editing them, and importing them into Hugo.

I also need to figure out how to replicate comments and “shuoshuo” (microblogging). Hugo requires an external commenting system.

Then, to speed up image loading, I’ll need to set up an image hosting service and replace the image links in previous articles.

To avoid irreversible impacts on the old blog, Hugo is currently hosted on GitHub Pages. However, GitHub is unstable in China, so once I’ve fully migrated the content and completed the setup, I’ll copy it to my cloud virtual host.

Why is there so much to do? Damn.

Test

Testing the new blog.

markdown

Level 2 Heading

Level 3 Heading

Level 4 Heading

Level 5 Heading

Level 6 Heading

1. Item
2. Item

• Item

Strikethrough

Bold

Italic

KaTex test

$\frac{1}{2}$

code test

print("hello world")

icon: A cup of coffee

Published on 2025-04-13 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2025-04-13

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

About Final Exams

For students, nothing seems more important at the end of a semester than grades. Upholding the fine tradition of last-minute cramming, I studied frantically almost every day during the final two weeks (though I occasionally slacked off—why the hell are there still experiments in week 16?). Thankfully, I didn’t fail any courses, and while my scores weren’t stellar, I’m satisfied (scoring over 70 in aerodynamics after cramming it in a day—no need to elaborate on that skill).

And so, I’ll once again make the empty promise of “next semester, I’ll study properly from the start”—a classic lie, haha.
But seriously, I really should start studying, or how else will I ever earn my Ph.D.?

About Pursuing a Ph.D.

I chose the Qian Xuesen Honors Program’s direct Ph.D. track not for the accelerated 4+3 graduation (though I’m not cut out for that anyway) nor to chase a degree that promises higher salaries or greater “social status.” I believe the person who first translated “Doctor” as “博士” (bóshì, literally “erudite scholar”) intended to emphasize the reputation of being widely learned, not the other trappings.

Though they say “cursing someone into a Ph.D. is a thunderbolt-worthy sin,” and stories of delayed graduations and disillusionment abound, I still want to try my hand at creating something entirely new—something unprecedented. Not for titles, not for academic turf, but simply because it might benefit people and humanity.

As I’ve said before:

My material demands are modest—just enough to support my family, which seems achievable given my current situation. But I’m dissatisfied with my undergraduate education; four years of study still feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface.

To cling to knowledge explored by predecessors decades or centuries ago in this rapidly evolving era? To forsake the frontiers of learning and settle for mere subsistence? I can’t do it.

I may lack talent and perhaps will never achieve much academically, but I refuse to abandon humanity’s courage to explore and innovate. At the very least, I want to stand at the forefront as a witness—to watch generations break through the shackles of matter and mind, to see civilization step out of its gentle cradle and venture into the unknown depths of space.

I can’t give up the thrill of acquiring new knowledge,
because I’ve already touched the sky.

Enough grand talk for today. Deep down, I don’t truly believe I have the power to change anything. Most likely, I’ll end up as an unremarkable academic footnote, barely graduating with a pile of mediocre papers.
But I’ll still try. I’ll still do it. Because the mountain is there.

About Family

After such serious topics, let’s lighten the mood.
In August, my mother had surgery at Wuhan Tongji Hospital, and I stayed with her for half a month (though I’m too embarrassed to call it “caretaking”). After her hysterectomy, she rested for two months and regained some energy. But then she went right back to her early-morning-to-late-night work routine. Sigh.
Otherwise, things at home are unchanged, with little to worry about.
I miss the egg-drop sweet soup my grandmother used to make in winter.

About Friends

Life at school has been uneventful, aside from an electronics competition. My friends are the same as ever, the people I like are doing well, and everyone’s living their own lives.
“At the ends of the earth, half my dear friends are scattered.”

About My Trip to Hungary

I signed up for the winter break exchange program at Óbuda University organized by the School of Space Science. I’ve been here for two weeks and am about to head back.
Learned some useless AI applications—nothing to do with my future studies, and I didn’t expect to acquire any “dragon-slaying skills” anyway.

The first few days of “white people food” were awful; I couldn’t fathom how locals survive on this. But the meals gradually improved. I tried authentic Hungarian goulash (a beef stew with potatoes, carrots, etc.) at a local spot, and it was delicious. The pork knuckle here is also incredible—huge portions and tasty (though why is it translated as “toe joint”?).

The steak, though? Forget it—served rare by default, tough to cut and chew. The ubiquitous dry bread is inedible, and the salads might as well be rocks.

Another standout was the bathrooms. Every single one I’ve seen here is spotless, with attendants, stocked toilet paper, soap, hand dryers, and paper towels (OMG). The dorm bathrooms even have bidet sprayers and bleach-soaked toilet brushes. All faucets provide 24/7 hot and cold water, and the heating is so intense that indoors often feels like a sauna.

The only downside? Almost no public restrooms, and some places charge for toilet access.

Sigh. Developed countries have money to burn on resources. It breaks my heart to think of villagers in northern China who can’t afford heating in winter or southerners who can’t run AC in summer.
Too many people in this world suffer. Comrades, we must keep striving.

I bought some authentic souvenirs to bring back, but I won’t spoil the surprise for friends who might read this.

Closing Thoughts

Flying home tomorrow for the New Year, and I’m brimming with nostalgia.
The remaining half of winter break should be spent studying Principles of Communications (maybe it will, maybe it won’t).
Wishing you a happy New Year, peace and prosperity in the years to come.

Jan 24, 2025

Published on 2025-01-28 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2025-01-28

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

“Mom, will there really be girls who like me in this world?”
“Of course! When I first met you, I was only in my twenties too.”

The Mid-Autumn Festival is approaching—give your family a call.

“Men have sorrow and joy, they meet or part again;
The moon is bright or dim and she may wax or wane.
There has been nothing perfect since the olden days.”
So let us wish that man may live as long as he can!
Though miles apart, we’ll share the beauty she displays.

May we all be blessed with longevity.
May we all be blessed with longevity.
May we all be blessed with longevity.

(Note: The classical Chinese poem is rendered in Xu Yuanchong’s renowned English translation, preserving both the lyrical beauty and philosophical depth of Su Shi’s original work. The repetition of “longevity” mirrors the original text’s emphasis while adapting to English poetic conventions.)

Published on 2024-09-15 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2024-09-15

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

“I have a dream that one day, the brilliant sunlight will pierce through the dark forest.”

But here, the sun was setting, now only revealing the tip of its crown above the distant mountains, like a dazzling gem embedded in the peaks. The child had already run far ahead, bathed together with the grassland in the golden hues of twilight.

The sun is about to set, and your child isn’t afraid?

“Of course not. She knows the sun will rise again tomorrow.”

Good night.

Published on 2024-09-09 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2024-09-09

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

The last update was a month ago—not because I was particularly busy (though there were indeed hectic moments). It’s just that life is unpredictable, and I found myself with little motivation to write.

A Thousand Miles Away, the Northern Wind Blows Against My Clothes

Shortly after finishing my final exams, I rushed to Tongji Hospital to take care of my mother, just as she had come to care for me when I was in fifth grade.

Taken at Building No. 2 of Tongji Hospital’s inpatient department. The rooftop was scorching and windy, so clothes had to be tied down tightly with ropes.

After her discharge, I stayed home for over ten days, doing nothing but idling away my time on Chao and Ace Attorney.

Eating and drinking at home—blending watermelon into juice and chilling it was absolutely delicious, and banana with milk wasn’t bad either.

Off to Chang’an, Three Thousand Miles from Home

Once she could take care of herself again, I boarded a train to Chang’an (Xi’an).

I’ve never been one to cling to home, always yearning to wander far and wide, never looking back. They’ve grown old and can’t keep up with me anymore. My father, like all parents whose children are leaving home, threw a bit of a tantrum, while my mother simply watched from afar.

Their son has his own life now, speaking words that sound fresh and unfamiliar to them. The more sensible I become, the more distant I seem. Will we ever miss those days when I’d throw tantrums for dumplings or remote-controlled cars? Back then, they were still young, and so was I.

To stay or leave, neither holds meaning,
The lingering clouds make it hard to rest.
The setting sun seals the lonely city,
No plan to return to Yanran Peak.
Only this melody can soothe a broken heart.

— “Memories of Chang’an”

This Melody, Once Played, Will Leave Its Mark

The graduate dormitories at school have been completed, while several shops in the main building have closed (the hardest to swallow was Mixue Ice Cream & Tea).

On the way here, I bought portraits of Chairman Mao and the five great mentors. I pasted a young Mao on my wardrobe door as a constant reminder (though it’s never been of much use, haha).

Anime + communism—I must be some kind of divine being. On the left is fantasy, on the right is dreams, and beneath my feet is my mission.

A slight surprise was receiving the certificate and ring from UNICEF.

A classmate told me this counts as an international award and could boost my comprehensive evaluation score (laughs). What good is that for someone who’s failed courses?

If only I could shelter all the scholars under a thousand roofs,
Unshaken by wind or rain, steadfast as a mountain!

The certificate arrived on July 28, the 48th anniversary of the Tangshan Earthquake.

I have a dream—that one day, everyone will have a sturdy home to live in.

Xi’an’s summer is as hot as back home, if not more stifling, leaving me drenched in sweat at the slightest movement.

Pulled an all-nighter during the four-day, three-night electronics competition, but I’m used to it by now.

For Project F, I built a magnetic levitation toy. Since magnets weren’t allowed for the base, I brute-forced it with power—eight small coils and one large one, hand-wound several times. I gave it my all.

During the final evaluation, it levitated at 1.5 cm, earning 35 points.

I’m satisfied. Though the official results aren’t out yet, I’ve already popped the champagne.

Aim for silver, reach for gold (i.e., secure a provincial second prize and aim for first).

At least I’ve held myself accountable.

Time Flows Like Ink, Washing the Sky Blue

After the evaluation today, I loitered in EII-210 for the air conditioning (damn dorm maintenance cutting the power). Scrolled through Chao and watched videos until 6 p.m.

With nothing better to do, I browsed online shops and bought a bunch of snacks, thinking that if they tasted good, I might share them with family and friends.

Got back and accomplished nothing again, booted up Battlefield 1 until 11 p.m. Ruined, kid.

Wasted enough time. A month ago, I said I’d publish notes on electromagnetic fields and waves—now the progress is infinitely close to zero.

Starting tomorrow, I’ll study hard and get back on track.

Wait, no—today, since it’s already past midnight (o(￣▽￣)ブ).

Hope to get some real work done before Black Myth: Wukong comes out.

While writing, I recalled the taste of that chilled, freshly blended watermelon juice from home. Now I’m hungry.

I’ve always been glad to wander the world,
But Chang’an has no flavor quite like this.

The night is deep, and words can’t capture all I feel.

Only this melody can make me forget the world.

Good night.

Published on 2024-08-04 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2024-08-04

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

Prologue:

I mistook the morning probability theory exam for an afternoon one, slept soundly till eleven, and woke up cheerfully ordering a plate of Kung Pao chicken rice.
And then quietly perished…

It’s probably over now—sophomore year, grad school recommendations, all of it. Stories often end with accidents, as if only the unexpected can leave a lasting impression on both the actors and the audience.

A year in Qian’s Class has indeed brought more challenges. Every early morning rush to an 8 a.m. class while my roommates slept, every late-night return from the lab to find them gaming—it made my teeth itch with frustration.
Was it worth it?
I have no regrets.

Though my advice to underclassmen is always a straightforward “don’t do it,” I don’t regret joining Qian’s Class. To get closer to aerospace, I decisively transferred from the School of Mechanical and Electrical Engineering to Qian’s Class. The moment I filled out the application, I knew what was coming: more courses, more work, cutthroat academics, fewer credits, less funding, and a brutal grad school recommendation process. The cautionary posts from the previous class on Zhihu didn’t deter me, just as I can’t deter the freshmen of ’23.

Out here in the Chang’an campus, far from the city center, the thick cotton-like clouds by day and the countless stars at night are far more captivating than words like “competitions” or “grad recommendations.” Freed from the anxiety over credits and recommendations, I feel much lighter.

There’s nothing to lament. Compared to building an aviation industry from scratch in the early days of New China, grad school exams aren’t even a setback. The road may be winding, but you just keep walking.

Fortunately, I’ve mastered most of this semester’s coursework. Probability theory, which I missed, remains a gap, but I’ll fill it through practice. Knowledge gained means these six months weren’t wasted.

“The path not taken always seems more alluring, but I believe the one I chose was always the right one.”
“Schools are places for teaching and nurturing, not for fighting over grades. What makes a university ‘great’? Great learning, great wisdom, great vision.”

Words I wrote a year ago, a constant reminder to myself. Don’t lose sight of what matters, don’t be blinded by worldly illusions. Where to go? Toward aerospace, toward the people, toward communism.
Smooth out the bumps to forge a broad road; after conquering hardships, set forth again.

Though I often wonder if it’s the late-night probability theory notes that scrambled my brain, I’ll keep sharing them. They might not help my peers much, but they could benefit those who come after—a small contribution to the spread of knowledge and cultural communism.

Published on 2024-06-27 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2024-06-27

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

The temperatures in Xi’an have been climbing higher lately, hitting 36°C by the end of May. I can’t even imagine how hot it’ll be by December. Due to the provincial electronics competition in July and possible summer social practice, I’m considering staying on campus for the break. I hope they won’t make us consolidate dorms like they did in winter (summer doesn’t require centralized heating to cut costs, so it shouldn’t happen, right?). In previous years, I’d head home right after exams, but I suspect inland cities in midsummer are much hotter than my home province with its thousand lakes.

Mentioning scorching summers brings to mind the bamboo bed at home, the red bricks and ceiling fans of the old house, the crisp green melons and fragrant white muskmelons, the old peach tree in front of the house that was cut down during renovations, and my grandma, who’s been slicing melons for me every summer since I was little…

With the busyness of the past few weeks winding down and the weekend approaching, I tried hard to recall what meaningful things I’d done—but nothing came to mind. When assignments were due, I rushed through them; if deadlines were far off, I piled them up and escaped into Battlefield 1. When labs rolled around, I’d grumble my way to G614 on my bike, often getting frustrated by two faulty signal cables. Oh, and this week, I scored 36 seconds on the horizontal bar for my PE final—pretty proud of that one ().

Once, over a meal, a classmate brought up grad school recommendations, and I bluntly said my grades were probably near the bottom of the class. With the top 75% cutoff, I wouldn’t make it. In fact, given the three-year fitness test average requirement of 60, I’d already lost hope. My personal standard is just keeping my GPA above 80—no need to grind (nor could I). I’ll only join competitions that actually mean something, skipping the pointless ones whenever possible.

Ever since I stubbornly refused my dad’s advice to join the Party freshman year, the so-called “promising future” widely recognized by society has felt irrelevant to me. Few willingly give up easily attainable benefits, just as most people’s “principles” are little more than commodities with price tags. A senior once recommended I attend a Youth Marxism event, and I laughed it off: “I have no interest in becoming part of the bureaucratic bourgeois vanguard.”

Honestly, after two years at Xidian University, I’m utterly disappointed with this clown show. Before the college entrance exams, they boasted about being a “prestigious school,” part of “985/211,” and a place for “teaching and enlightening minds.” But once I got here, I realized universities are just like this—not just Xidian, but everywhere, domestic or abroad. None are truly “ivory towers.” The air reeks of money and the rot of power, and what’s taught is far from “enlightening.”

Best to say less.

At least for now, I don’t regret past choices—whether it was slacking off or missing opportunities. Every decision was one “LBW” would make. If I hadn’t taken this path, I wouldn’t be me.

Finals are coming, so it’s time to start cramming. Today, I had a blast on the Somme with the M97 Hunter, one-shotting everyone. I’ve decided not to touch Battlefield 1 until finals are over—and I mean it! On the 24th, I was shocked to see the drama around Xiuhuo getting accused of cheating after scoring 38 kills with 90% accuracy on patrol. Thankfully, they quickly proved their innocence.

“A German hacker landed at Ballroom Blitz.”
“The shameless fake pro doubled down and fled.”
“The despicable Xiuhuo entered Grappa Hills.”
“The lad hit 70% accuracy.”
“Xiuhuo approached 80% accuracy.”
“The supreme Fire God effortlessly proved their innocence today!”

Watching it all unfold was pure hype, so I grabbed my patrol rifle and dominated every map. Today (May 28), I went 28/3 on Rupture—pretty satisfied. Once finals are over, I’ll continue following in the great Fire God’s footsteps!

Starting from finishing this post, I’ll hit the books. First, I’ll catch up on long-overdue probability theory homework—aiming to finish by tomorrow morning (and actually sleep early tonight). Then, thermodynamics homework. If there’s time, I’ll slap together lab reports for analog circuits and signals.

I’ll speedrun probability theory systematically, then preview digital circuits. Signals and thermodynamics are tough, so I’ll focus on them after classes end. Once the second numerical analysis test date is announced, I’ll cram accordingly—last time, a three-hour crash course worked well. Analog circuits are moderately difficult, so I’ll handle them during lectures. Early June also has the intercollegiate electronics competition, but with no time to spare, I’ll just wing it.

Time’s tight, tasks are heavy—it’s time to pay my dues.

Published on 2024-05-24 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2024-05-24

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

Alive

There was no holiday during the May Day break. I just finished the university-level electronic design competition, and although the results weren’t great, I learned a lot.

On the fourth night, I pulled an all-nighter. By five or six in the morning, the sun rose, and the few groups of students who had also stayed up all night in the lab took photos to commemorate the moment. It’s rare to see the sunrise at Xidian University. The fifth floor of Building F offers an open view, with distant high-rises and the campus greenery all bathed in the unique beauty of the morning sun and the relief of finishing work. I started sleeping yesterday afternoon and didn’t wake up until eight the next morning, ready to start a new week of classes. Though well-rested and refreshed, I still felt exhausted after a full day of lectures.

The small path to Building C was unusually beautiful today. It’s early summer—no melancholy of spring flowers withering and falling, no scorching heat or torrential rain of midsummer, just pure, pleasant weather, neither too hot nor too cold, with air quality that hasn’t hit hazardous levels (Xi’an’s AQI often exceeds 500). No flowers, just green leaves, plain yet delightful.

I envy the little grass and shrubs by the roadside, quietly curling up undisturbed. No 8:55 AM classes, no homework, no mandatory lectures or competitions—they just stand there. No one scolds the grass for lacking leaves in winter or for attracting too many mosquitoes in summer, but I’m different.

The life of grass is fragile. It dies in winter, or some bored person might step on it or yank it out. I’m different. It’s hard for me to die by accident; under normal circumstances, I’ll have to endure decades more suffering in this world. Comparatively, a life that could end at any moment but is free from hardship seems much more comfortable—no worries, every extra second is a bonus, and death doesn’t matter.

“What if you also lived in fear of death every day?”
“Then I’d cherish my time and live more passionately.”
“So you wouldn’t choose to die.”

Yes, I’m just too comfortable being alive—mediocre because I can’t die.

Philosophy

My first philosophical reflections began in middle school. Back then, I read a lot of orthodox sci-fi literature and was also obsessed with web novels (QQ Reading +笔趣阁, totaling around 2,400+ hours). I was awed by grand narratives and moved by lofty morals. I oscillated between pessimistic resignation under metaphysical materialism and reckless idealism under idealism. These were my two ways of coping with setbacks, or rather, two modes of thought. For future planning, I vaguely explored longtermism and communism, not yet clear about the distinctions—firmly believing in the importance of scientific progress while also hoping for a world where everyone lives happily, free from oppression.

Many of those thoughts, principles, and philosophies were born in the bathroom stall. In that squalid square meter, the greatest thinker strolled through his palace of philosophy, portraits of past sages hanging on the walls.

“If Qin Shi Huang had abandoned the Great Wall, how many common people would have lived better lives! The same logic applies to rockets—they drain resources that should go toward public welfare.”
“If the wall hadn’t been built 3,000 years ago, the world would have one less wonder today, and foreign invasions might have claimed even more lives.
If we don’t develop space exploration now, how will future generations judge us for sacrificing the infinite cosmos for petty short-term gains?”

In high school, I read more traditional literature, but it only refined my intellect and literary skills without sparking deeper, more fundamental reflections.

Sadly, I gradually lost the ability to read deeply. After skimming a few books on communism, I became convinced it was the way forward; watching a few progressive videos gave me a fleeting burst of motivation. In university, I rarely read poetry or books, and my writing lost its spark. The words I penned now embarrass even me. Immersed in the internet, I didn’t notice myself becoming frivolous, tainted by a hint of cynicism.

Can I still read long articles? Can I still pause to reflect while reading? I don’t know. In this era of bite-sized content, firing up Battlefield for a quick match seems more gratifying than reading. I no longer have uninterrupted time to savor a good book. The little energy I have left demands a quick hit of stimulation, not a scalding cup of tea that requires patience to cool.

Longing in Familiarity

After class in the afternoon, I walked back to my dorm under dappled sunlight. An unnamed bird hopped from the roadside to a low branch, then to a higher one as I approached. Once again, I felt the beauty of this small campus. Xidian is like a plain but enduringly attractive girl—unremarkable at first glance, even a bit dowdy. But after two years, I’ve begun to appreciate its quiet beauty, where everything is just right.

I’ve also grown accustomed to Xi’an, this western metropolis. When complaining, I call it Xi’an; when praising, I elegantly dub it Chang’an. As for the Chang’an District, it bears no resemblance to the prosperity of its namesake.

Though most Chinese megacities are nearly identical, Chang’an is still lovely. It has everything you’d expect, with street food stalls exuding warmth and a sense of “lived-in vibrancy.” Most places are clean, crowds are manageable, traffic is usually smooth, and prices are reasonable—“moderation,” Chang’an’s way of hosting guests, and also the ruler’s way of governing.

People Change

“No man ever steps in the same river twice.”
—Heraclitus

Everything changes, and I often notice how others change. Some improve (rarely), some I once admired become detestable, some unique individuals turn mundane, and most simply grow unfamiliar. From my perspective, the old world slowly morphs into something I either resent or miss, but I rarely recognize my own transformation.

During my phase of pursuing absolute morality, I was practically a saint (and also a libertine). Now, I’ve become much more “normal.” I no longer pick up every piece of trash on the street (though I might still right a toppled bike). I used to silently thank every hardworking person I saw, and I still often do. As for this “decline in moral standards,” my current self can “accept” it, and perhaps my past self would “forgive” it too.

What I can’t accept is how I’m becoming vulgar.

I once believed I was special, both in thought and action—partly due to precociousness, partly because of a teenager’s craving for attention.

Just as everyone cringes at their old QQ posts and social media updates, the cringeworthy, edgy words of youth expose our younger selves in a self-centered world where everyone is the most unique.

Yet even now, I still think the past me was special, at least unique, unlike anyone else.

Lately, though, the differences are shrinking. I see myself becoming more and more like those around me—an average student at an average university, rushing to 8 AM classes on an empty stomach, zoning out in lectures, gaming after class, scrolling the internet, or occasionally indulging in minor melancholia.

I never thought I’d remain unique forever. While others fantasized about Tsinghua or Peking University, I knew I’d end up ordinary, just like everyone else—working hard to support a family, growing rigid in thought, clinging to outdated tastes, even criticizing new trends. I’m not afraid of mediocrity; we’ll all become mediocre.

What’s terrifying isn’t mediocrity—it’s vulgarity.

Since losing everyone I could rely on last year, I’ve had no idea what to pursue.

For grand ideals and the suffering of distant strangers? These matter, of course, but they’re too far removed, both in time and space. The ideals are so vague—what can I even do? Even if I study hard and join the aerospace industry, I’ll likely just become a standardized screw, stuck in place, replaceable by anyone. What’s the meaning of my existence?

For a happy family? Clearly, no one likes me now, and chances are slim that anyone ever will. If all I need to do is support my parents and myself, graduating and earning an average salary would suffice. No marriage, no mortgage—8,000 RMB a month would leave me comfortable, even with savings. So why should I strive now?

Forgive me for being mundane, but living requires finding some meaning—otherwise, I might as well be roadside grass, ready to die at any moment. No one needs me to live for them, and I don’t crave material excess. I’ve completely lost my direction.

“Maybe slacking off isn’t so bad.” With that mindset, I’ve lost all motivation to improve. I don’t want to learn new things, not even the coursework. I go through the motions, appearing alive but devoid of vitality. I’ve become unbearably vulgar.

At least I’ve grown used to being alone—enough to keep me from dying.

During dinner, I thought about a lot, planning to write it all down for my blog. But when I opened Obsidian, I realized it wasn’t installed on my new laptop. After downloading it, tweaking settings, and fiddling with themes, I forgot what I wanted to write. All I remember is eating stir-fried potatoes with cured meat.

Perhaps life is like a plate of mediocre stir-fried potatoes with cured meat.
Therein lies the truth,
But words fail me now.

Published on 2024-05-06 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2024-05-06

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

This year, I treated myself to a new desktop PC for my birthday

. My old setup from four years ago—a 9700KF paired with a 1660S—was no longer cutting it, and the 1080P 60Hz monitor had become underwhelming.

After selling the old PC and monitor, plus dipping into my savings, I barely managed to scrape together enough for the upgrade.

Spec List

• CPU: 12400F (loose chip)
• Motherboard: ASUS 610M-A D4
• Cooler: Thermalright AX120 R SE White
• GPU: Yeston RX 7700XT Sakura Blossom Bride
• RAM: Klevv 16GB×2 DDR4 3600MHz
• SSD: Fanxiang 1TB S500PRO
• PSU: MSI MAG A650BNL Bronze
• Case: Aigo Xiao Lan White Panoramic (no center pillar)
• Fans: 4× Aurora regular fans + 3× reverse fans
• Monitor: Koorui X41Q 23.8-inch 2K 180Hz

Assembly

The build wasn’t too difficult overall—just watched a Hardware Tea Talk video and got to work.

The main challenges were installing the fans, GPU brace, and case wiring:

1. Fans: The included self-tapping screws required high torque to thread. Regular fans were easier to mount from the outside, but the reverse fan between the PSU and GPU had undersized screw holes—luckily, the case’s longer screws worked.
2. Cable Management Nightmare: All seven fans had RGB, so their 4-pin power cables had to be daisy-chained to the motherboard (unsure if it could handle the load). The 5V 3-pin ARGB cables also needed chaining, including one from the GPU’s ARGB strip. The resulting spaghetti was impossible to tidy with zip ties. The non-modular MSI PSU had stiff cables, and the cramped case (small size + bulky air cooler + chonky GPU) made front-panel routing a pain.
3. GPU Woes: While not excessively long, the GPU was absurdly thick—less than a centimeter of clearance from the reverse fan. To fit the brace, I had to tear off its bottom cushion foam, likely voiding the case warranty. Oh, and three cables are now pinned under the GPU… fingers crossed.
4. Case Wiring: Connecting the front-panel headers wasn’t hard, but I misaligned them multiple times, leading to frantic troubleshooting when it wouldn’t POST.
5. Gave Up on Cable Management: Closed the back panel—out of sight, out of mind.

Behold the final product (it’s very aesthetically pleasing, like, 9.5/10):

I chose the 7700XT over the 4060Ti because:

• No plans for AI workloads anytime soon. Even if I did, the 4060Ti’s performance would be inadequate.
• The 4060Ti 16GB is currently overpriced (~¥4000) due to a minor crypto-mining surge.

So, I’ll stick to gaming with this beast (and admire the Sakura Blossom Bride GPU’s beauty—yes, it actually smells nice, hehe).

P.S. The Sakura Blossom Bride card is gorgeous… and it genuinely has a fragrance. Hehehe.

Published on 2024-04-29 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2024-04-29

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!

Author: 孤筝(lvbowen040427@163.com)

Tags: Slacking off, Mediocrity, Daydreaming, Escapism, Solitude, Certainty

The semester has ended, and the year is drawing to a close.

In the first half of the year, I was in a complete state of slacking off—my Steam playtime for Battlefield games speaks for itself. Unsurprisingly, my grades were terrible, and I nearly failed my finals.

During the summer, I planned to tutor to earn some money, hoping to save up for an astronomical telescope. But life had other plans—too many unexpected expenses left me with little savings. Still, I took the chance to reconnect with a few old friends. As cliché as it sounds, the farther I go, the more I cherish the warmth and kindness of those familiar faces.

In the second half of the year, I officially joined the Qian Xuesen Space Science Honors Program.

Unique engineering math analysis, even more challenging advanced physics (T), theoretical mechanics, and a second attempt at complex analysis—which I barely scraped through the first time. Every day, I struggled to keep up with assignments, labs, and extracurriculars. On the surface, it seemed like I had turned things around, trading aimlessness for productive busyness. But in reality, I knew I wasn’t truly engaged. At first, I was enthusiastic and attentive in class, but soon I slipped back into old habits—skimming through thousands of words on Zhihu during lectures instead of paying attention.

I had plenty of free time outside class, but most of it was fragmented, and I wasted it. If I didn’t have lab work in the evening, I’d order takeout (yes, I ate more takeout than cafeteria food this semester) and lie in bed. Often, I wasn’t even sleeping—just avoiding responsibilities and learning nothing, telling myself that resting would make me more efficient later.

This semester, I barely played games. At least, whenever I had free time, I didn’t feel like gaming. I told myself not to slack off, but not playing games seemed to be my limit—I never had the discipline to proactively study. So I lied to myself, pretending that not gaming meant I was trying. In truth, most of my time was spent daydreaming, accomplishing nothing.

I often escape—whether from studying or life itself.

I leave assignments until the deadline, always believing I can finish them on time. When it’s time to eat, I can’t be bothered to dress properly and queue in the cafeteria, so I order from a familiar takeout place and shuffle downstairs in slippers when the notification arrives. I won’t cut my hair until it’s unbearable, reassuring myself that I’m too busy with school to care.

I once kept up a morning routine for over a month, but after a couple of forced late nights, I gave up entirely. For 8:30 AM classes, my alarm was set for 7:50. I skipped breakfast for months, ordering takeout at 11:15 during the second half of class so I could pick it up right after.

Lights out at 11:30 PM, but I’d still lie awake in bed, scrolling through social media and forums until guilt forced me to put my phone down and sleep.

I’ve grown used to sleeping with earplugs. It’s not particularly noisy around me, but I feel uneasy without them—any small sound grabs my attention. Too sensitive.

In this class of high achievers, I’m near the bottom. I can’t fully detach myself from worldly concerns—grades, rankings, grad school admissions, my future. I want a better life but refuse to work for it; I crave love but hesitate to take the next step. Isn’t that just pathetic?

I hate this version of myself, yet I lack the real motivation to change.

This year’s reflection might sound too negative, but given my current mindset, it’s hard to look back with much fondness. I’m not blaming my past self—I just resent that, despite growing older, I haven’t matured. I still lack clear goals, still waver in my dreams.

Yet, somehow, life hasn’t strayed too far off course.

I’ve firmly chosen aerospace and taken a small step forward. The second half of the year was slightly more purposeful than the first. A minor emotional setback made me less eager to settle down. I’ve been disappointed in my country and its people time and again, yet hope still flickers. I’ve lost much, but I still cling to a shred of attachment to this world.

I often feel cursed, wondering if some karmic debt from a past life haunts me. I’ve committed no great sins in this one (though I can’t claim any great virtues either), yet in matters of family, love, opportunities, and future prospects, I always seem to draw the short straw. Last night, I dreamed my parents scolded me so harshly I cried—the bitterness lingered even after waking.

Still, I’m alive.

Staying alive is hard, but despite my bad luck, I’m still here.

Maybe I’ll indulge in a little baseless hope—things will get better.

Good morning, good night. Peace, year after year.

Published on 2024-01-05 at 孤筝の温暖小家, last modified on 2024-01-05

All articles on this blog are licensed under the BY-NC-SA license agreement unless otherwise stated. Please indicate the source when reprinting!