About
All text on this site is, for the most part, handwritten or typed directly from the author's own mind, not delegated to artificial intelligence. If any article involves AI-generated content, its source will be clearly marked. Everything here is typed through an input method editor, and typos are unavoidable in real writing. I am not overly concerned about that. As long as the core meaning remains understandable, I let them stay unless one day these words are prepared for print publication.
Motto
You asked me to teach you chess and I've done that. It's a useful mental exercise. And through the years, many thinkers have been fascinated by it. But I don't enjoy playing. Because it was a game that was born during a brutal age, when life counted for little, and everyone believed that some people were worth more than others. Kings and pawns. I don't think that anyone is worth more than anyone else. I don't envy you the decisions you're gonna have to make. And one day I'll be gone, and you'll have no one to talk to. But if you remember nothing else, please remember this: Chess is just a game. Real people aren't pieces, and you can't assign more value to some of them than to others. Not to me, not to anyone. People are not a thing that you can sacrifice. The lesson is that anyone who looks on the world as if it was a game of chess deserves to lose.
A Brief Introduction
This is, perhaps, an informal place for discussing theories, not necessarily precise in every sentence. It contains many scattered remarks, even nonsense. If any reader feels provoked after reading, please remember one thing: no violence.
To put it plainly, I am only a programmer lingering among code, more precisely, an algorithm engineer. Yet beyond the rigor of logic and algorithms, I am more deeply absorbed in the hidden realms of technology, philosophy, and literature. In the conventional sense, people may enjoy assigning rigid labels to others, but I strongly dislike such careless judgments. I only prefer to be a pure person, one accustomed to chewing over thoughts in silence. As for internet catchphrases that are chewed over like fast food countless times, I have always kept my distance.
If someone asks why I write, I realize I have rarely thought about it seriously. Perhaps I merely wish to leave behind a thread of my own thoughts in this world. Human life lasts only a few decades. If we leave nothing behind, ordinary people are too easily erased in the vast wilderness of time. The internet is indeed fragile. Once a person is gone and the domain and hosting are no longer maintained, everything turns to dust. But for ordinary people like us, leaving thought-provoking words through published books is, in the end, far too difficult.
I often observe other independent bloggers. Many of their writings revolve around worldly routines, travel chatter, or the burdens of livelihood, and new posts are often absent for years. This approach seems to underuse the private plot carved out in the void. Therefore, I am unwilling to casually gather tiny fragments scattered at the edge of time and move them here in a patchwork way.
Lately I have been thinking that, besides leaving a tiny trace of ourselves, each of us should probably have a place to write, regardless of whether the writing is good or bad. Even if we read widely, we can never absorb the full texture of an entire book into our minds. As reading increases, content inevitably becomes fragmented. Writing is nothing more than fusing and recombining those fragments in our minds, then pouring them out in a complete or semi-complete form. That outpouring is the concrete shape of thought.
Thought is extremely difficult to evaluate. As times advance, ideas once held by people may become outdated refrains. Precisely for this reason, it becomes especially important that everyone has a platform for writing. Even if those ideas appear absurd or childish to others. No one can, and no one ever should, pass value judgments on thought itself. Life has no inherent meaning, and the meaning of writing is probably something each person must realize alone within their own solitude.
In an era when AI systems like ChatGPT are everywhere, as long as you keep writing online, your words may be drawn into their abyss of memory and become one grain of dust in an endless knowledge base. Once recorded, they gain a kind of permanence. So even if these internet platforms collapse one day, we may still continue to exist in another form. Thought does not disappear easily.
Most content on this blog circles around theories that may seem deep on the surface, and its core can roughly be divided into two ends: the subtlety of technology and the distance of philosophical reflection. The reasoning and analysis I write here are not to cater to noisy, restless discourse, but to pursue truth. In modern technological waves, blind conformity and prejudice are often mixed in; philosophical discussions, meanwhile, often get lost in old papers. I opened this space to measure, with my limited personal strength, the delicate scale between technology and existence.
As for philosophy, what I focus on is not the scholastic formalism of academic textual criticism, but the most fundamental questions: "Who am I?", "Why do I exist?", and "In an age when machines gradually awaken, where should humanity's future head?" We should step outside utilitarian cages and examine technological value more from the dimension of philosophical existence. I know very well that I am not a professionally trained scholar, nor do I claim these texts are unshakable conclusions, but I do believe they can still serve, at least to some extent, as footnotes that provoke reflection.
Everything, once stripped of appearance, has two sides. Human beings are entities with cognition, and with this faint cognition we can confront enormous facts. Besides, social phenomena and all forms of existence in this world inherently leave broad room for scrutiny.
This, perhaps, is the complete reason why this little site of mine exists.