coming up for air
I didn’t know I needed a weekend like this to feel again. To dance in those little moments between brushing your teeth and getting into bed. To pass on the right and speed away to a chorus that grows louder with every shadow cast by every street lamp.
I can’t say it’s been due to any one thing. There’s just so much that seems to be happening lately. The days pass faster than ever, and I’m left wondering where life will take me next, cause I’m always surprised by every new friend and unexpected experience.
Wild boar pizza at Tennessy Willems, one of the few wood-burning pizzerias in Ottawa. A combination of boar sausage, caramelized apple, sage, roasted garlic, and sharp cheddar. The sweetness of the apple and the savoury character of the sausage make for an interesting mélange, but the use of cheddar is what really gives this pizza a unique taste.
When I’m drowning in emotion, it feels like I’m perpetually coming out of the water, emptying my stale lungs before taking in as much air as I can again.
This is when every breath is beautiful. A rush of life coming at me.
frame of mine
I’ve made peace with this body. It hasn’t been an easy peace to come by, as I seem to get constant reminders about the diminutive size of my stature. Most recently, I met an older Chinese woman who admitted that she thought I looked sick and weak only after she discovered I had colitis. It was as if she thought colitis caused some kind of malnutrition that stunted my growth, and she didn’t want to bring up the fact that I was this size because it would have been too embarrassing unless it was caused by a medical condition.
I’ve been dealing with all kinds of similar comments since I was a kid, so when a girlfriend would say that she liked a particular part or portion of my body, I always thought they were just blinded by love. Eventually I realized that if they could come to love this body, then I could too. It will never look right in anything but slim-fit extra smalls from Mexx. It will never be good enough for my parents. But it will always be who I am, and I’ve learned to accept that.
a short break in adolescence
I’ve been feeling like an adult.
This isn’t due to my fiscal responsibilities or my tidy home or any other things I used to use as a measure for maturity, but from feeling like everything makes sense. Like I have all the answers the way adults seem to do, because I can see the big picture, I understand what truly matters, and I don’t sweat the small things anymore.
It’s only now that I’m at a point where I feel like a grown up. Like this is finally who I’ll be for the rest of my life.
That’s not to say I’ve finished growing, that I’m not human or infallible, but there aren’t the same struggles or changes that I used to have, so my emotions and attitudes have evened out.
For a while I wondered if I’d just become another turning-30 cliché, but I realized it was never about age. Various things have brought me to this maturity, from conversations to relationships to trips far away. It all happened to be around the beginning of a new decade in my life.
Maybe I’ve been feeling this way only because things are going so well. It’ll take some hardship to test how far I’ve truly come as an adult, but until then I’ll try to live like a child, cause too often youth is wasted on the young.
cause you're bored and you can doesn't mean you should
I always wonder if I’ll ever reach such a complete peace that I’d stop writing completely. One of the reasons I started this blog was to have a place where I could get things down and sort my thoughts out on a page, but I don’t need to do much of either nowadays.
I know so many people who’ve continued writing, even after finding that kind of happiness in their lives. Unfortunately, happiness has robbed them of literary inspiration, and now they have nothing interesting to say. It wouldn’t be so bad if they stopped writing, but they post for the sake of posting instead of having something to say or express or vent, and it reeks of desperation and insecurity.
I used to worry that happiness would make me a boring person too, but now I wouldn’t mind as long as I realized it and gave up this blog. It’s so embarrassing to write out of a belief that it’ll make you interesting. Or even worse, to be oblivious to the fact you’re writing about the most inane things.
everybody's gotta learn sometime
It’s strange to feel like I’m ready for a relationship at only this point in my life. It didn’t seem right that anyone should love me if I didn’t love myself, and that didn’t really start until recently.
It also took a good round of therapy to figure out that I was sabotaging my relationships so no one could have the chance to hurt me. If I consider which ones would have worked out had that not been an issue that caused me to break up with my girlfriends in order to protect myself, I can only think of one. But that was a long time ago, and while we may have worked then, it’s no guarantee for the people we’ve become, as I’m sure there’s been a lot of growth on both our ends. It’s only now that I feel like my personal evolution has reached a peak, a place where I’m satisfied with who I am, and there won’t likely be any more drastic changes that may affect the dynamics of a relationship.
I’ve been able to recognize that the risk of getting hurt is inseparable from the trust we place in the people we love, and that risk is always worth it. I’ve left behind my baggage, something no one else should have to deal with, and I’ve had enough experience to know exactly what I’m looking for in a relationship and what kind of people work with me.
Took me 30 years to figure it all out, but everybody’s gotta learn sometime.
friendship cycles
I haven’t talked to John since he got married, which was almost a month ago. This is an inordinately long time, considering the fact that he used to call me almost every other day. I don’t blame him cause I know he just got back from his honeymoon, moved into a new house, and is catching up on work. I’ve never been happier for him, but that still leaves me longing for the comfort of the only person I say so much to. He was my only consistent source of interaction with the outside world.
Head table, bitches.
Alayna just had her 20 week ultrasound, and they’re going to have a boy. When the baby’s born, I’ll have even less of him.
It’s not like I’ve given up on John, but I have to face the fact that he’s in a very different place now, and needs to focus on his family. That means I need to give him space; it’s exactly what he would do for me if our situations were reversed1. Considering the fact that the relationship, marriage, baby, and house weren’t on the horizon only half a year ago, it’s a very sudden change for me.
I’ve learned that all relationships — romantic or not — have unique beginnings and endings. Some are short-term and run their course quickly, others are long-term and last until passing, and they can all come and go at any point in our lives.
It makes me wonder when I’ll meet another friend I can spend time with the way I can with John. Someone I can call up and hang out with spontaneously, without feeling like I need to keep them entertained. Someone I can have on the phone without saying anything, and for whom I can have an excuse to cook. Someone around whom I can let my guard down, which is probably the most difficult thing for me to do when it comes to being social. There have been a few people like that through the years, but things fall apart, and that’s why I’m left here, missing the comfort of a close friend.
- Although I’m sure it’d be easier for him cause I’m more dependent, even though I tend to be the one in control in our friendship. [↑]
The Process (or why a tree is not a tree)
Take a leaf off a tree. Is it still a tree? Take a single twig off a tree. Is it still a tree? Remove an entire branch from a tree. Is it still a tree? Take off half of the branches. Is it still a tree? Cut down the whole tree, leaving only the stump. Is it still a tree? Many people would say no, it is no longer a tree, though the roots may still be in the ground. Well, where did the tree go? Removing a leaf, it remains a tree, but not by removing all of the branches and the trunk?
In the real world, there aren’t any things as we commonly think of them. A ‘thing’ as we refer to it is only a noun. A noun is merely an idea, a mental construct. These ‘things’ exist only in our minds. There is no tree, there is only the idea of a tree.
—Anonymous
I’ve been writing here for almost a decade, pouring 10 years of my life into this blog. I recently considered cleaning up the content by deleting a significant chunk of my old entries; I’m not the same person as when I wrote them, and I don’t even like who I was back then. Not to mention the fact that some are rather embarrassing, like reading your old diary in high school when the biggest problem was what people thought when you wore your uniform cause you forgot it was a Civvies Day.
The problem I was faced with was deciding what should be deleted. People aren’t static; they’re processes, events, evolutions, made up of cells that continually renew themselves on a daily basis. At what definable point can I say these entries are no longer me? It could be argued that even posts as recent as a few months ago aren’t an accurate representation, though there may still remnants of the old me in the habits of my thoughts.
Then I came across this passage in The Tao by Mark Forstater, on the subject of how using human language to encompass and describe a concept such as the Tao is logically suspect: “Reality can’t be enclosed and described by words. Symbols aren’t real in the way that a tree is real, and however much we may delude ourselves that they are, we’ll eventually find that the word ‘water’ won’t quench our thirst.”
I came to accept that the things I write here have never been and never will be a complete reflection of who I am, so I’ve decided to keep all the entries. The ones written by my old self serve as a reminder of who I was, and at the very least, they tell me where I’ve been and how far I’ve come.
until tomorrow
The days go on continuously, measured in beats-per-minute. Winter’s here in all it’s bright glory, but the sun sets a little later every day, marking the change of seasons. It’s the only way for me to keep track of the passing time.
So many days are spent alone, yet I don’t feel lonely. The only problem with isolation is that it lets me spend too much time with my own thoughts. This, combined with my introverted tendencies (which means my stimulation comes from memories), makes me feel like I’m trapped in the past. I suppose it’s not all bad, but it certainly does make it harder for me to heal.
I don’t know what to write. There isn’t the same struggle or need to vent. I find myself sitting and staring at a blank screen for hours at a time. It’s not like I feel the need to say something for the sake of it. There are still thoughts and ideas that linger, things to get off my chest, but they’re either too too simple to mention, or too complex to put down.
It’s strange to see this path laid out before me. I could wander off and explore new things, but I’m still too comfortable.
Things don’t change, but I don’t think I mind so much anymore.
returns
The only thing I bought in Britain was this tea candle shade of the London skyline, found in a shop filled with baubles and knick knacks where Mike and Emma took me. They had a feeling it was my kind of thing. Funny to think that they knew me so well already in those three days. I love watching the shadows dance across the shade in warm colours.
I went through an entire spectrum of emotions there. Through all the wonder and excitement were still moments of weakness, giddiness, sadness, and insecurity, because there are things you can’t escape by flying to the other side of the world.
I’ve since settled back into my old life. The trip didn’t change me, not in any epiphanic way at least. It was more of an affirmation of myself and the way I’ve been seeing things.
There were so many times that I was far out of my comfort zone, thrust into independence, pushing my limits, and that forced me to be objective to keep my wits about me. In those objective moments were objective views of myself, where I began to understand that I was responsible for everything that was happening. For all the memories and experiences and footage and friendships.
And suddenly, I realized, I like me.
Life is what you make it
But sometimes, you go all in, you lose on the river, and you just don’t feel like playing anymore.