Peel The Onion

Have you ever heard someone said something like this : Life is like an onion. It is multilayered, so complicated that you have to peel its layer one by one until you find what you’re looking for. The trick is, you don’t know what it is you’re looking for. You can—of course—try to peel and peel every layer and layer, but it ain’t going to end. Figuring what’s underneath your life is a never ending thing.

I don’t really believe in peeling or sort of. But I like to try to use the method to solve some things. A little this a little that. For example, a few days ago, one of my students came up with a question and she asked me about something mathy.

She drew a square figure with four half-circles aligned well inside it. It went something like this.

And she asked me to figure out the range of the shaded in area. The red one. I was thinking for a moment before deciding how to explain the way to her. And then I came up with this peeling thing. These four semicircles were drawn this way as if they were stacked on to the tetragon.

If you sum those four, then you’ll find that precisely the same as the broad of the rectangle, after you takeaway the red area. That is to say, in order to calculate the broad of the red area, you must calculate the four circles

and then subtract it with the broad of the rectangle. As simple as that.

And then I try to apply this method into my real life, to try to find the essence of my life,—or to find the hidden crap inside me.

Let’s just say I failed—or didn’t even start.

The whole thing had got me thinking about girls instead. My dream girl. What would she look like?

This?

Actually, I must agree with myself—see how I soliloquize?—she’s the first person that came up in my mind when I thought about the dream girl.

I really like the feeling of taking that picture. Do you understand me? I mean, I like the picture a lot. Not just the pretty girl inside each of it, but the whole idea of taking pictures this way:

You don’t understand. I can’t explain this to you. I don’t know how to.

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So today I was re-watching an old movie, one of my all time most favourite romantic movies. It’s called A Lot Like Love—hope you’ve watched it too, so you’ll know what I’m muttering about. Ashton Kutcher and Amanda Peet were in it.

This movie was like Serendipity, it told about a love story of two people who met and dated for just a moment, and then was parted by their lives. A few years later, Oliver and Emily met again, but again, only for a moment, but enough to create the sweetest memory. They parted again. And reunited again. Each reunion was filled with love and memorable events. But things came between them, and by things, I mean real–life.

Near the end of this movie, Oliver suddenly showed up at Emily’s door, with an electric guitar tied to his shoulder and an old-fashioned speaker in his left hand. He sang Bon Jovi’s I’ll be there for you to her, publicly noticeable to all her neighborhood. She was just stunned and smiled, watching him singing his undying love with his awful tones.

I think that’s the sweetest thing. It takes all the courage in the world, to face her after several long years of goodbye. And not to mention, that time, Oliver was broke. His life was at his worst. Living with his parents in the year of 30, I mean, come on…

True love always comes in the right time, such as when you confess your love to the girl you can’t get out of your mind. I used to believe that a very good strategy to win your girl would always work. But now… would it?

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After finishing the whole song—and been shouted “You Suck!” by strangers— Oliver turned to Emily and said (I always remember this line)

“So, I know you like Bon Jovi… so…”

She looked at him in silence for a minute before saying slowly.

“I… don’t.”

“Emily, … I’m flat broke. I don’t have a job. I don’t have a plan. And I know… I know I’m probably six years too late, but would you give me straight one back?”

Emily went quiet, she looked down at her feet for a while, playing with her fingers, her mouth muttering in silence, as if teaching herself the right way to tell him. But Oliver finished her words.

“You’re married.” Said Oliver losingly.

She shook her head and said softly.

“I’m engaged.”

I guess it wouldn’t work after all.

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PS : Why men were punished because of his love?