DATE
12/16/25
TIME
5:01 PM
Creativity vs. Productivity(i)
A：
刚开始写博客的时候，有段时间抓耳挠腮不知道写啥好，到处在微信群里问人有啥需要写的没。因为我想，反正现在是在练习写作，写什么内容都无所谓吧。结果对方跟我说，你写你为什么喜欢写命题作文，这就是命题。我当时真是写不出来。我说了一堆理由，他说，但这些原因也可能让你不会写命题作文。那我说，难道是因为我聪明？那我咋不会自己命题呢？那也没多聪明啊？聪明这件事，我不太赞同。我觉得聪明人不会做这些我选择做的非常不聪明的屁事。但你要说我很蠢，好像关键时候又还行。我也不知道这是几个意思。目前看起来，发挥非常不稳定。
从7月到12月，当时给我题目的人已经剪完纪录片（@顾宜凡），放映了。他的记录片有很多他的自己在里面，尽管他的镜头是对着外面的、不是自己，但他看到的世界、他决定留下来的东西、决定配的音乐，都让我了解他更多，而不是他镜头下的人物更多。也有可能是因为，比起他镜头下的人物，我对这位导演的视角的兴趣大于拍摄对象本身。他看世界的眼光是如此的温柔，我想如果他拍narrative会更有意思。
7月的夏天，我们约在ferry building见面，他开车过来，我等着等着飞起了叶子。我们聊了各自喜欢的电影，对不同导演的看法，行业的状况，我的工作经验。他说，你有可以开始的基础了，那就开始干吧。半年以后，我自己的剧本写了不少，然而他最初给我的题目，我还没有完成。为什么我一定需要别人来命题呢？这个问题我还是无法回答。是因为被规训了，还是惶恐到不觉得自己可以想写什么就写什么，到现在我也没搞明白。
B：
今年发生的很多变化里，三月份开始写博客是其中之一。个人博客(MySpace, QQ, Blog) 作为曾经在千禧年前后如此流行的网络社交行为，在现在完全被手机社媒替代。对我来说，经过facebook、instagram、threads、snapchat、微信的更新迭代，已经没有任何社媒是我真的觉得属于我自己的空间、不带社交包袱的表达。如果有一个方法，可以让新朋友快速的了解你，让旧朋友持续的跟进你的生活，为什么不呢？2023年年底，干完netflix的《Atlas》之后，我就一直没找工作。编剧罢工是理由，更是借口。前东家早就开始做电影项目了，我也没回去。干了制片人干的活，也没拿到制片人的薪水/credit，回去干的目的是什么，我不知道。如果可以另起门户，为什么不呢。30岁是时候开始了，我想。
由于脑子里的思绪实在是杂乱无章，慢慢整理的过程漫长又容易放弃。如果不发布，我想我没办法坚持下去。于是开始即写即发，让写作随着我的生活经验变形成长，生长成我不知道的东西，却被chatgpt称为“写作的现场感”。chatgpt真是太supportive了，这种话我就说不出来。
刚开始非常的随心所欲，愤怒的、伤心的、烦恼的、炸裂的，不堪的、负面的、阴暗的，一股脑都往外倒。在网上跟人吵架，直接写文章反驳，送上链接。我很躁狂，我知道。反正只有认识的人知道作者是谁，不认识的人看到了也不会知道我在说什么，也没有什么隐私问题。
到了夏天的时候，事情发生了一些变化。我开始接触湾区本地的华人组织，像所大学，湾区也有很多学生社团。有登山的、唱歌的、讨论文学的、看电影的、玩桌游的、喝酒的、政治、税务、露营、滑雪，什么都有，这些是我之前没有接触过的。我好像很久没有在一个城市待的时间长到我还有精力去参与当地组织的活动。
我一直觉得自己在被赶着跑，从一个地方到一个地方。16岁后的第一次，我有了也许可以安顿下来的想法。不如在这里定居吧，不如存钱买房吧。我开始这么想。我认识的新朋友，是和以前不一样的朋友。我认识的时候，脑海里不必再带着一年后我可能就不在这的想法。介绍自己的时候，也不那么急于求成了。还有时间，我第一次这么觉得。我可以养猫，可以给她们个家，可以不跑来跑去，可以就地躺平。实在是太舒心了，不如就一直这样下去吧。我会这么想。
我认识的新朋友，是一年后不会消失的朋友。我认识的朋友，就算他们也不肯定自己要怎么留下，我也有办法让他们留下。我长大了，我现在有自己公司了，虽然八字还一撇，但我已经踏出了第一步。缓慢，但在前进。十几年前，我跟黄炜说，我的梦想大概是雇用我所有的朋友，这样就永远不用分开。黄炜，我正在努力。
C：
记性好总是被人认为是好事。但其实记性好，不管你想记得的、不想记得的，都会记得。直到今年，我还是时不时有醒来之后不知道自己在哪的体验。好像我做了一个梦，莫名其妙的到了地球的另一端。我怎么有两只猫，还结婚了。这真的是我吗，我以为我做不到这一步。我爸妈呢，多久没见了。为什么他们突然老了，为什么我突然长大了。我不知道，我只知道我记性太好，好像昨天我还在家，今天已经回不去了。时间对不同的人流逝的速度好像是不一样的。我的时间很慢很慢，很长很长。
今年联系上了些很久没联系上的朋友。有的就在湾区，上班的地方就在Daiga公司对面。有的结婚了，有的要生二胎了，有的还在working holiday。有的还是跟十几年前一样，还有的已经找不到了。世界变得越来越小，大学后第一次见是在电视上也开始变得稀松平常。有唱歌唱出viral video的，有参加相亲节目的，有当了某某体育队营养师的，有给kojima当助理的。见不到本人，只见到新闻。说好要去日本，到现在也没去。各种未完成的承诺，希望明年都可以一一兑现。
像所大学的湾区，虽然有各种的社团，但就像我自己的大学一样，我并没有找到我想加入的。于是就像当时一样，我无中生有了个自己喜欢的。没有人会讨厌酒，再来点大麻、蘑菇，谁能拒绝。本邪教的initiation，进来大家都是兄弟姐妹。事实证明我还是太高估了人们的接受能力，虽然是湾区，华人还是偏保守。去中心化，还得去毒品，烟也差不多戒了，开始打起网球，还潜水。酒局认识的人，开始一起组队锻炼。
我高估了人们的接受能力，但低估了人们的参与能力。周二周三周四就要开始约见面了，周五周六周日更是不醉不归。去cotsco进酒成了routine，周边大麻店都开始认识我们，去买蘑菇也会开始被打听我们都在拿这些蘑菇干嘛。加上oakland的地理位置，越来越有黑社会的感觉。我却越来越觉得自在。
A:
When I first started writing the blog, there was a period when I was completely stuck—scratching my head, not knowing what to write. I went around asking people in various WeChat groups if there was anything they wanted me to write about. I figured that since I was just practicing writing anyway, the topic didn’t really matter.
One person said to me, “Write about why you like writing assigned topics. That itself is the assignment.” I genuinely couldn’t write it. I gave a bunch of reasons, and he said, “But those reasons could also explain why you can’t write assigned topics.”
So I said, “Is it because I’m smart?” Then immediately: “But if I were smart, why can’t I come up with my own prompts?” That doesn’t sound very smart either. I don’t really buy the idea that I’m smart. I think truly smart people wouldn’t choose to do half the very stupid shit I deliberately choose to do. But if you say I’m dumb, that doesn’t quite fit either—I tend to come through when it really matters. I don’t know what this means. All I know is that my performance is extremely unstable.
From July to December, the person who gave me that prompt had already finished editing his documentary (@顾宜凡) and screened it. His documentary contains a lot of himself. Even though the camera is pointed outward, not at him, the world he sees, what he chooses to keep, and the music he chooses to use tell me far more about him than about the people in front of his lens. That might also be because, compared to his subjects, I’m more interested in the director’s perspective than the filmed object itself. The way he looks at the world is so gentle. I think if he shot narrative films, they’d be even more interesting.
That July, in the summer, we met at the Ferry Building. He drove over; I waited, and leaves were blowing all around. We talked about films we liked, our views on different directors, the state of the industry, my work experience. He said, “You already have the foundation to start. So just start.”
Half a year later, I’ve written quite a lot of my own script. And yet, the original prompt he gave me—I still haven’t finished it. Why do I insist on needing someone else to assign me a topic? I still can’t answer that question. Is it conditioning? Or fear—fear so deep that I don’t believe I’m allowed to write whatever I want? Even now, I still haven’t figured it out.
B:
Among all the changes that happened this year, starting to write a blog in March was one of them. Personal blogs (MySpace, QQ, Blog), once such a popular form of online social life around the turn of the millennium, have now been completely replaced by mobile social media.
For me, after cycles of Facebook, Instagram, Threads, Snapchat, and WeChat, there’s no social platform left that truly feels like my space—a place to express myself without social baggage. If there’s a way for new friends to quickly understand you, and for old friends to keep up with your life, why not?
At the end of 2023, after finishing Netflix’s Atlas, I didn’t look for another job. The writers’ strike was a reason—and also an excuse. My former company had already started developing film projects, but I didn’t go back. I did producer-level work without getting producer pay or credit. So what would be the point of going back? I didn’t know. If I could start something of my own, why not? Thirty feels like the right time to begin.
My thoughts are a complete mess. The process of slowly sorting them out is long and easy to abandon. If I don’t publish, I know I won’t stick with it. So I started writing and publishing simultaneously, letting the writing morph and grow alongside my lived experience—into something I don’t yet know. ChatGPT called this “a sense of immediacy in the writing.” ChatGPT is really supportive. I could never say something like that myself.
At the beginning, it was completely unrestrained: angry, sad, anxious, explosive, messy, negative, dark—everything poured out at once. I argued with people online, wrote articles directly rebutting them, and sent links. I was manic. I know. Anyway, only people who knew me knew who the author was. Strangers who saw it wouldn’t understand what I was talking about, and there weren’t really privacy concerns.
By summer, things began to change. I started connecting with local Chinese organizations in the Bay Area, like a college, bay area has got its own student clubs. Hiking, singing, literature discussions, film clubs, board games, drinking, politics, taxes, camping, skiing, everything exists. These were things I’d never really encountered before. I realized it had been a long time since I’d stayed in one city long enough to still have the energy to participate in local organizations. I’d always felt like I was being chased from place to place.
For the first time since I was sixteen, I had the thought that maybe I could settle down. Maybe I could stay here. Maybe I could save money and buy a house. I started thinking like that. The new friends I met were different from before. When meeting them, I no longer had to carry the thought that I might be gone in a year. When introducing myself, I didn’t feel the need to rush. There was time. For the first time, I truly felt that.I could have cats. I could give them a home. I could stop running around. I could just lie flat where I was. It felt incredibly comfortable. Maybe I could just keep living like this. I found myself thinking that.
The friends I’m making now are friends who won’t disappear in a year. Even if they themselves aren’t sure how they’ll stay, I have ways to help them stay. I’ve grown up. I have my own company now. Even if it’s still barely formed, I’ve already taken the first step. Slow, but moving forward. Over ten years ago, I told my friend Wei that my dream was probably to employ all my friends, so we’d never have to be separated. I’m trying.
C:
Having a good memory is always considered a good thing. But in reality, if your memory is good, you remember everything—what you want to remember and what you don’t. Even this year, I still occasionally wake up not knowing where I am. As if I’d had a dream and somehow ended up on the other side of the planet.Why do I have two cats? Why am I married? Is this really me? I thought I couldn’t make it this far. What about my parents—how long has it been since I last saw them? Why did they suddenly get old? Why did I suddenly grow up? I don’t know. I only know my memory is too good. It feels like yesterday I was still at home, and today I can never go back. Time seems to pass at different speeds for different people. Mine is very, very slow—very, very long.
This year I reconnected with some friends I hadn’t spoken to in a long time. Some are in the Bay Area, working right across the street from Daiga’s company. Some are married. Some are about to have their second child. Some are still on working holidays. Some are exactly the same as they were ten years ago. Others can no longer be found.The world is getting smaller. Seeing old classmates for the first time after college on TV has become strangely common. Some went viral singing. Some joined dating shows. Some became nutritionists for professional sports teams. Some work as assistants for Kojima. You don’t see them in person—you see them in the news. We said we’d go to Japan, but still haven’t. So many unfinished promises. Hopefully next year, they can be fulfilled one by one.
Like a proper college, the bay area has all kinds of clubs, but just like my actual university, I never found one I really wanted to join. So, just like back then, I created one for myself, one I actually like. Nobody hates alcohol. Add some weed and magic mushrooms—who could say no? A pseudo-cult initiation: once you’re in, everyone’s a brother or sister. It turns out I overestimated people’s tolerance. Even in the Bay Area, Chinese communities are still relatively conservative. Decentralization had to give way to de-drugging. I more or less quit smoking, started playing tennis, and went scuba diving. People I met at drinking gatherings began training together.
I overestimated people’s tolerance, but underestimated their capacity to participate. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays—we’re already scheduling meetups. Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays—it’s nonstop drinking. Buying alcohol at Costco became routine. Nearby weed shops started to recognize us. Even when buying mushrooms, people started asking what we were using them for. Add Oakland’s geography into the mix, and it all started to feel increasingly like organized crime.
And yet, I felt more and more at ease.
Lyrics of Ginger Tea by Emei
Your favorite color
Is the color of sunlit roses
Are there roses where you are?
Could you send them in a mason jar for me?
There′s clouds in the sky
And they say there's a chance of rain
How′s the weather where you are?
You're feeling a bit too far today
Why'd you have to leave?
If you were here with me
I wonder what it would be like
To hear your advice
While we watch the boats swim by
In front of the blue sky
I wonder what it would be like
To feel your proud eyes
When I make the recipe right
When I find my person for life
I wonder what it would be like
If you were still here
There′s this boy
And I promise he′s good for me
Do you see him where you are?
Mom says you both like ginger tea
Why'd you have to leave?
If you were here with me
I wonder what it would be like
To hear your advice
While we watch the boats swim by
In front of the blue sky
I wonder what it would be like
To feel your proud eyes
When I make the recipe right
When I find my person for life
I wonder what it would be like
If you were still here
Writer(s): Andrew Tufano, Emily Li, Kyle Reynolds