I graduated from undergraduate.
In the blink of an eye, I've made it through undergraduate studies. Looking back, this blog has also been around for 4 years.
In 2021, I got into CTF, and after tsctf-j 2021, I followed suit and built my own blog. After 4 years of evolution, the blog has become what it is today. Writing and deleting, deleting and writing, I haven't written many technical blogs, but there are quite a few narrative ones. Over the 4 years, through picking and choosing blog engines, patching and mending, the blog has changed from WordPress to Hugo, then to others, and finally settled on this messily modified Docusaurus.
The blog's domain has also changed repeatedly, from the initial novanoir.dev / novanoir.moe, to later ova.moe, and now to nova.gal, perhaps it will finally settle on this domain (wiping tears).
Perhaps only at the moment when I held my graduation certificate did my heart truly realize: I graduated. Even though I had already gone through defense, house hunting, moving, graduation photos, graduation concert, degree conferment ceremony and other preparations, it was only when I returned to the dormitory and found that there was no longer any reason for me to stay any longer that I truly recognized this fact: I graduated.
I examined the dormitory for a long time, muttering to myself "Let me think if there's anything I haven't taken, I don't want to come back for it again." My eyes lingered on those items I had decluttered, yet I found that each one could evoke memory fragments related to it.
After walking around in circles, realizing there was really no reason to stay in the dormitory anymore, I shouldered my backpack and walked out of the dormitory while closing the door. The dormitory was obviously the place where I felt most at home at BUPT, and I didn't have much attachment to other places at BUPT — thinking about it carefully, it's somewhat pathetic that I basically spent four years in the dormitory, really lacking memories of exercising with classmates or walking by the lake with someone. Even for study memories, that Left Bank Coffee left a deeper impression on me than any library or classroom, but it closed down two years ago.
The bag on my back was indeed getting heavy, dragging my steps slowly. The route from the dormitory to the west gate was all too familiar for someone like me who often ordered takeout — a round trip of fourteen minutes, only five minutes by bike, just a short 500m distance, yet it encompassed 1/5 of my youth. Four years ago on an afternoon, I dragged my suitcase alone from the west gate, looking at the high sun in the east, complaining about Beijing's weather while walking toward the freshman registration at the library plaza. Four years later on an evening, I walked alone with my hiking backpack toward the west gate, watching the last traces of the western sun disappear, admiring the nice weather while chasing the sunset.
Few people were heading out of campus at this time. "Can't believe I actually graduated," looking at the bustling crowd walking toward the dormitories, I was stunned by this realization. I pursed my lips — university was indeed different from high school and middle school. Back then, I was so excited about graduation — it meant I would soon be "free" — I could freely manage my own time, freely learn the knowledge I wanted to learn, freely manage my living expenses, freely choose my social relationships, freely decide my lifestyle habits (it turned out I severely lacked self-control). This excitement obviously suppressed some "disappointing parts," such as leaving a place you're familiar with, leaving some people you're familiar with.
Graduating from university is completely different. Graduating from university often only makes you less "free," without additional excitement to wash away those disappointing parts. Moreover, this kind of "freedom" adds more three-dimensional and profound meaning to those "disappointing parts," making them harder to let go. Or perhaps people really do change, becoming afraid of change. The cost of losing and rebuilding is simply too high, and opportunities are becoming fewer and fewer, making it hard to muster interest. I let out a long sigh, not knowing if it was because I felt lost, or because I discovered that I would actually feel lost. But regardless of the reason, after the sigh, I found I had already reached the school gate.
The facial recognition at the school gate recognized my face and told me as always: "Thank you for your hard work." I wanted to turn back and look at the path I came from that I hadn't paid attention to, but I didn't. The weight of the bag held down my movement, and there would no longer be my takeout in the delivery lockers.
I think I mentioned in some blog post or posts that I hate taking photos, especially hate appearing in photos myself.
After university, this habit has somewhat changed. My photo album gradually filled with some empty shots — the cafeteria at dusk, tree branches after snow, the playground in the morning. But I still dislike photographing people as always, the camera lens is a tool for invading territory, people are just some unnecessary noise.
Well... although I think this way, collective activities can't avoid taking photos, that would be too much of a buzzkill — so gradually, my photo album had some group photos, and my face appeared in my social media for the first time.
My sister: You finally showed your face, nice necklace, very tasteful
My dad: Feels like trying to look like a gangster, but not quite there [grinning teeth]
Thinking carefully, there wasn't any particular trigger. If I had to say, it was entering a relationship so I paid a little more attention to dressing up (paying attention != being effective), or because I went to Hong Kong and Singapore for the first time during that period, so not taking photos would feel like a huge loss. In any case, I rarely appeared in my photo album, and even appeared in my social media.
I can understand why I don't like being photographed — lack of confidence in my appearance, or having self-awareness. But perhaps after taking many group photos my skin got thicker, "Haha, I'm just bad!" With this mindset for taking photos, there really wasn't much psychological burden. But I have to admit that photos with people often have deeper anchoring effects, while landscape photos can often only serve as emotional backdrops. Perhaps for this reason, more and more "unnecessary noise" appeared in my photo album, gradually becoming the protagonists of my album.
Four years ago, I went to a comic convention once, and afterward I posted: "Next comic convention goal: take photos with cosplayers." Unknowingly, I can now casually find classmates and take commemorative photos together (although I look like a homeless person with messy hair and stubble because I haven't gone home, sorry). I feel like four years passed quickly, but looking at those photos, each moment and even entire memory segments can be depicted so vividly. Photography is truly a magical thing.
But I still find it hard to understand why someone who wouldn't take a single photo three years ago would now casually take a photo, use AI to generate a wall climber, and send it to others?
This Content is generated by LLM and might be wrong / incomplete, refer to Chinese version if you find something wrong.