百家争鸣
刘蔚
[主页]->[百家争鸣]->[刘蔚]->[Wei Liu: My Life in China 1.1: 180 Square Feet Home Filled up With Fur]
刘蔚
·唤醒国人之105—市镇起义两个月时的景象
·唤醒国人之106—天下大乱才好
·唤醒国人之107—起义四年后的景象
·唤醒国人之108—市镇起义的可行性
·唤醒国人之109—共产党管区人们的五大误区
·唤醒国人之110—民主平等的新中国创业难
·唤醒国人之111—民主平等的新中国守业不难
·唤醒国人之112—用常识判断消息的可信度
·唤醒国人之113—我们今天维权应有的方向
·唤醒国人之114—“斗地主”是中国人生活困苦的开端
·唤醒国人之115—共产党的阶级论就是特权论
·唤醒国人之116—中国颜色革命的颜色
·唤醒国人之117—颜色革命的活动
·唤醒国人之118—大陆色情业泛滥显示的是民不聊生
·唤醒国人之119—从没有一寸土地到有一千平方米的土地
·唤醒国人之120—有这样的搬家才好
·唤醒国人之121—每人领取一份土地不会使人口增长
·唤醒国人之122—人靠父母养活还是靠老天养活?
·唤醒国人之123—共产党管区是1%的富人和99%的穷人
·唤醒国人之124—医治中国贫富悬殊的良药
·唤醒国人之125—抽签领取土地中的事项
·唤醒国人之126—住房地、商用地应该不会占用现有的耕地
·唤醒国人之127—人人一份地,人人不再穷
·唤醒国人之128—还要在共产党设定的环境里捞一笔吗?
·唤醒国人之129—女人不要再去卖身了
·唤醒国人之130—男人不要就想着女人的肉体
·唤醒国人之131—民众拥有他们应有的财富是唯一的标准
·唤醒国人之132—拒绝共产党的非正义战争
·唤醒国人之133—一些人从相信弱肉强食到禽兽不如
·唤醒国人之134—单方面的税费何时才休?
·唤醒国人之136—还我河山
·唤醒国人之137—在这个国家想不犯法很难
·唤醒国人之138— 拒绝缴税
·唤醒国人之139—中共是在反对台独还是在反对民主?
·唤醒国人之140—中共成了世界军事巨人
·唤醒国人之141--我们受够了中共的战争威胁
·唤醒国人之142—给大陆媒体,论坛的公开信
·唤醒国人之143—反共就是反法西斯
·唤醒国人之144—现在就实行民主
·唤醒国人之145—现在民主活动中实行民主的两个问题
·唤醒国人之146—觉醒人士2008年新年文告
·唤醒国人之147—共产党管区人们的四大误区
·唤醒国人之148—中国人应该怎样反对歧视?
·唤醒国人之149—我们为什么要谈政治?
·唤醒国人之150—说说共产党管区的语汇
·唤醒国人之151—共产党几十年来搞的是刺刀经济
·唤醒国人之152—没有国,哪有家?
·唤醒国人之153—20美金的欢迎费是怎么来的?
·唤醒国人之154—假话与假货
·唤醒国人之155—我们民众是否需要改变?
·唤醒国人之156—喜欢看围棋之1
·唤醒国人之157—喜欢看围棋之2
·唤醒国人之158—喜欢看围棋之3
·唤醒国人之159—在上海讲真相之一
·唤醒国人之160—共产党要在2008年4,5月间攻打台湾吗?
·唤醒国人之161—发动战争一方在开战前必须宣战
·唤醒国人之162—在上海讲真相之二及向今天的藏民致敬
·唤醒国人之163—在上海讲真相之三并向今天的西藏人致敬
·唤醒国人之164—雪山上的民族,你们是当今世界的英雄
·唤醒国人之165—在广州讲真相之一
·唤醒国人之166—今天中国的家庭沦为了共产党压榨民众的场所
·唤醒国人之167—全国和平革命的时机已经成熟了
·唤醒国人之168—反对中共举办奥运会
·唤醒国人之169—在广州讲真相之二
·唤醒国人之170—共产党派了王千源等来救中国股市 (上)
·唤醒国人之171—共产党派了王千源等来救中国股市 (下)
·唤醒国人之172—看清共产党假爱国,真捞钱的本质 (上)
·唤醒国人之173—看清共产党假爱国,真捞钱的本质 (下)
·唤醒国人之174—中共传递的不是和平而是狼烟 (上)
·唤醒国人之175—中共传递的不是和平而是狼烟 (下)
·唤醒国人之176—高于/压倒一切的说法站得住脚吗?(上)
·唤醒国人之177—高于/压倒一切的说法站得住脚吗?(下)
·唤醒国人之178—我没有捐款,我的帐篷只花了150元 (上)
·Wei Liu: Awakening Chinese People 180—Two Opposite Sides of People in Present China of 2008
·唤醒国人之179—我没有捐款,我的帐篷只花了150元 (下)
·唤醒国人之180—今天2008年中国的两大阵营
·唤醒国人之181—苛政猛于地震也 (上)
·唤醒国人之182—苛政猛于地震也 (下)
·唤醒国人之183—如今中国落后的真正原因 (上)
·唤醒国人之184—如今中国落后的真正原因 (下)
·唤醒国人之185—我就愿意范跑跑来教我的孩子 (上)
·唤醒国人之186—我就愿意范跑跑来教我的孩子 (下)
·唤醒国人之187—各作者应写明是否欢迎读者登载
·唤醒国人之188—看了欧洲杯,你更有兴致看北京奥运吗?(上)
·唤醒国人之189—看了欧洲杯,你更有兴致看北京奥运吗?(下)
·唤醒国人之190—瓮安事件再次证明了市镇起义的可行性 (上)
·唤醒国人之191—瓮安事件再次证明了市镇起义的可行性 (下)
·唤醒国人之192—庐山还是重要的抗日战场 (上)
·唤醒国人之193—庐山还是重要的抗日战场 (下)
·唤醒国人之194—中共奥运给民众带来的伤害 (上)
·唤醒国人之195—中共奥运给民众带来的伤害 (下)
·唤醒国人之196—勿忘重庆超市事件中的死难者
·唤醒国人之197—听说中国成了大国
·唤醒国人之198—今天中国是金牌大国,体育小国 (上)
·唤醒国人之199—今天中国是金牌大国,体育小国 (下)
·唤醒国人之200—古装戏,古诗词,今天的生活
·唤醒国人之201—我的小品比春晚的好看100倍
·唤醒国人之202—今天中国百姓没房,没医是中共造成的 (上)
·唤醒国人之203—中国百姓没房,没医是中共造成的 (下)
·唤醒国人之204—我现在只敢吃面粉和玉米了 (上)
·唤醒国人之205—我现在只敢吃面粉和玉米了 (下)
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Wei Liu: My Life in China 1.1: 180 Square Feet Home Filled up With Fur


   Wei Liu: My Life in China 1.1: 180 Square Feet Home Filled up With Furniture
   
   The Series Books of My Life in China
   

   Wei Liu April 2013
   
   Foreword
   
   Common people write memoir or autobiography too. As a common person lived in China, when I write it, some people around me say, “You are not celebrity. Who will read your autobiography?” If someone says to them, “You are just inferior,” they must feel so incensed, but in their heart, don’t they just regard themselves as inferior? I believe in that all people are equal to each other. And my autobiography writing about the ups and downs of common people, with the grand political and economic events that affect people’s life, which will appeal to common people more than books not focused on therein.
   
   Literature, by the norm of whether its scenes actually happened or not, is divided into two big categories: non-fiction and fiction. Non-fiction including autobiography, memoir, and other writings on things happened. Fiction is novel. Prose is an unclear category and should be cancelled. So literature is not just novel. Someone says, “This year I read 40 novels.” Are all the 40 books imagined scenarios?” Outside the Window by the Taiwan writer Yao Qiong is her autobiography, nonfiction, not fiction, not novel. If the reader cannot tell whether a work is happened or imagined, he may just say, “This year I read 40 literary works.” Anyway, the series books of My Life in China is my, Wei Liu’s memoir, autobiography, and of course belong to nonfiction.
   
   It is not quite possible to require anything to be 100%. There is hardly 100% consent or 100% against. Let’s use 50% as the demarcation. Over 50% or mostly consent is consent; over 50% or mostly against is against. The same, if over 50% of the words in a work actually happened, then it is nonfiction; if over 50% of the words in a work is imagined, then it is fiction, which is usually called novel.
   
   In this book series, except myself, other people around me are only mentioned by their last name, not their first name. They know who they are. My words depict the life of me, as a common person in China and render the solution for the 1.3 billion Chinese people to free ourselves from the hardships and oppressions and to finally have a happy life. Everybody is welcome to spread or publish my writings. Once you do not charge the reader, you don’t need to pay me, the author, anything. According to the international convention, the works educating or serving the public, like the book series of My Life in China may cite other works and are not confined by the copyright. Wish all who consent the ideas of the human rights and democracy, spread these ideas to one or more people every month, to save yourself, to save China, to let the world have more peace and happiness.
   
   The end of the foreword.
   
   Book 1: From Birth to the Graduation of Elementary School
   
   My Life in China 1.1: 180 Square Feet Home Filled up With Furniture
   
   In late April 1970, I was born in the No. 1 Workers’ Hospital, Lianglukou, Urban District, Chongqing, China. My father is a doctor in this hospital. So the hospital is both the place I was born and the place where my home is. My mother has a last name of He. In China, women do not change their last names after marriage, which I like. She is a teacher in No. 52 High School, Guihuayuan, Chongqing, China. My last name Liu is from my father’s last name Liu. My home is in a 3-floor building, which is the hospital dormitory for its employees. The wall of the building is the grayish cement and the ceiling is made of gray tiles, forming two slopes arched in the center. The doors open to the inside corridor, invisible from outside. From outside, people see a line of big square windows, 4 feet long and wide, no balconies. The building faces north and south. Each window from the two sides lives a family.
   
   Little, little me is held, carried, or guided into the second floor of the building. The top floor or the third floor is the auditorium of the hospital. “Ka, ka, ka—” descending down several wooden steps, turning to the left, walking to the end of the dingy corridor, then turning to the left is the door of my home. My home lies on the northeast corner of this building.
   
   The door is dark brown. In front of it is a 5 square feet greasy yellow cloth curtain. My dad or mom lifts the curtain, opens the door, and then a room filled up with varied furniture come to my scope. This is a room about 180 square feet, with about 18 feet in the north-south direction and 10 feet in the east-west direction.
   
   After entering the door, beginning from the southwest corner is a dark brown bamboo shelf, on which my mom and dad have put so many stuff that I never know. Next furniture to the north is a greasy dark brown cupboard, in which there are several china bowls. A crib is beneath the cupboard. On the top of the cupboard are 4 thermoses. In China, the tap water cannot be drunk. If people do, we will get sick.
   
   The next furniture on the west wall to the north is a wardrobe that contains all the clothes of our family. Its facade is bight brown paint, with the upper left corner being a black pine tree, which is a Chinese painting. Its right side is a big mirror that distorts everything. By looking at it, I never know whether I look beautiful or ugly. The big wardrobe is the only good-looking furniture in the room.
   
    The next furniture on the west wall to the north is a queen size bed. My mom, my dad and I, we three sleep on it until I reached 11 years old. There is no enough space on the bed. So my dad put 3 stools by the bedside, lying a part of his body on them.
   
    Further to the north is the north window, facing the 5-floor ward building of the hospital, where my Dad works.
   
    Now we move to the east wall. The northeast corner is a pentagon book cabinet, which contains several hundred books of my mom and dad.
   
    On the east wall the next furniture to the south is a 9-drawer desk, 3 feet tall, dark brown. My Dad calls it 9-drawer desk for it has 9 drawers, with 4 on each side and 1 in the center. By this desk, my Mom and Dad have spent many hours, reading. I’m too short to use it then. Before 1981 when I reached 11 and my home moved to the new residential building of the hospital, it had been the desk for my Mom and Dad.
   
   The furniture in my home is one next to the other, with no fissure in between. On the east wall the next furniture to the south is the flat cabinet, my Dad calls it that way. Its upper right corner is the 1 square foot mobile glass door. That is my favorite place—the candy place, but I seldom see any candy there.
   
   On the flat cabinet is a 12-inch black-white TV and a radio, which our family listen to the broadcasting story at lunch every day. 3 feet away from the flat cabinet in the center of the room is the round table—the dinner table of our family. The round table itself looks shabby with fissures running across the dark red top, but the white tablecloth and the glass place on it makes it look nice.
   
   Back to the flat cabinet, on the east wall the next furniture to the south is two bamboo chairs with an end table in between. My mom and dad use them to accommodate the guests. When the guests sit on them, the two bamboo chairs often shake. Behind them is the east window, with the window being 4 feet long and wide.
   
   On the east wall the next furniture to the south is the sewing machine. My mom does not use it often for she is not good at it. In front it is a short desk, about 1.4 feet tall, with blue and black ink trace on it. That is my desk. When I was 5 to7, I draw on my small desk. After the small desk, we return back to the door again.
   
   The wall and the ceiling of the room look white, old, with fissures in many places. The floor is wooden, having the color of red, black and gray, irregularly being together. The original paint is red. In some places, especially under the bed, there are dark holes. From time to time, we can hear the mice coming out and in from there. These are all the stuff in my home.

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