equivocality — Jeff Ngan's collection of thoughts, experiences, and projects, inspired by pretty much everything
17 Oct 11

the things we carry

I can’t fig­ure out why I’m so moody lately. Maybe it’s been too long since I smelled the wood of my gui­tar. Maybe it’s the fresh Autumn colours that tend to mag­nify my emo­tions. Maybe I’m feel­ing over­worked, over­stim­u­lated, and too rarely under­stood. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had a moment to myself in what feels like weeks, with so many feel­ings of lone­li­ness amongst so many people.

Autumn stream


I always think of exile in times like this, and in par­tic­u­lar, a stanza from Yevgeniy Onegin:

From all that to the heart is dear
then did I tear my heart away;
to every­one a stranger, tied by noth­ing,
I thought; lib­erty and peace
would serve instead of happiness.

Luckily, I’ve been read­ing The Poisonwood Bible, which reminds me that the only prob­lems I have are first-world prob­lems, and that I’m rich in ways many will never be.

I find it amaz­ing, the immen­sity of it, how any sin­gle per­son can be respon­si­ble for a tome of such rich sto­ry­telling, obser­va­tion, and wit. It’s the only book I’ve picked up in years, and I only started read­ing to get into her head as much as pos­si­ble (and piqued by my curios­ity on how she could describe a story of the Belgian Congo as sexy). Unsurprisingly, her favourite char­ac­ter is the strong, faith­ful, war­rior daugh­ter. Mine is like me too; the dark, brood­ing, intel­lec­tual child, dizy­gotic twin to hers. It makes me won­der if lik­ing one char­ac­ter over all oth­ers is too often an exer­cise in vanity.

In the end, Onegin real­izes he was wrong about exile, that he couldn’t fill him­self with empti­ness to replace the sad­ness, some­thing he only fig­ures out when he finds some­one worth lov­ing. That’s what’s pulling me back too, keep­ing me grounded amongst those dark moments of untem­pered emo­tion. I carry the image of her smile with me, the only thing as dis­tin­guished on her face as her Spanish eyes, and the rea­son I call her Cheeks from the way the flesh pulls up to round her face. I’ve stud­ied this smile for so long that I can see it every time I close my eyes, and with that, I carry a strength of my own too.

Me @ Twitter

Okay kit­ties, which one of you smeared poop on the ban­is­ter? Or more impor­tantly, how?!

3 years, 4 months ago
Me @ Twitter

Hmmm…maybe I should have tagged that last tweet with #feel­likea­MAN

3 years, 4 months ago
Me @ Twitter

I killed two spi­ders today and my dick is SEVEN INCHES LONG.

3 years, 4 months ago
09 Oct 11

gambler's fallacy

It’s my eleventh time here in four years, almost three times per. At this rate — con­sid­er­ing how sel­dom I get out nowa­days — it’s one of the only places I fre­quent. Each visit serves as a small time­stamp, from the year we went home with dif­fer­ent peo­ple to the year we went home together, and all the times caught in between among heavy snow and mechan­i­cal horses.

wedding name card


Strange how often I come here when it’s so rarely by choice. I always think I’ll be up next time, that I won’t be sit­ting by myself in one of these great halls, cause for­tune even­tu­ally smiles on every per­son who takes a chance on love.

Me @ Twitter

I can now swal­low three pills at a time as eas­ily as one. Something I’d rather not know or be proud of. #col­i­tis

3 years, 4 months ago
05 Oct 11

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.

Me @ Twitter

Family, fam­ily, fam­ily, fam­ily, fam­ily, Jeff. #chil­drens­birth­day­par­ties

3 years, 5 months ago
Me @ Twitter

Throwing up is kind of like poop­ing the wrong way.” Thank you, Lifehacker.

3 years, 5 months ago
29 Sep 11


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I’m writ­ing this over break­fast — a sim­ple flax bagel with cream cheese and hon­eyed tea — some­thing I haven’t done since back in the day. How weird is it that I don’t write any­more. At this point, I can’t tell if it’s a shift in inter­ests, or just a lack of need.

I lose track of the days cause I don’t sleep reg­u­lar hours. Or talk to John. Or play games. I can’t under­stand where the time is going. I won­der if life will ever slow down again, or if this is it, this is the rea­son old peo­ple whine about how quickly the years have passed and how some small food item used to cost some small amount.

man holding baby

This is how I want to be woken up every day.

I haven’t had a chance to recharge my bat­ter­ies in as long as I can remem­ber. The Christmas hol­i­days will be nice, when I’ll actu­ally be tak­ing the time off to her­mi­tize and relax, when I won’t have another video to edit, sub­ject to write, song to learn, or friend to visit. I may even treat myself to Portal 2.

boy playing with Lego


The Fall has started like no other. The air is clear and the sun is out, but it’s start­ing to get nippy at night. Every morn­ing I wake up with the pave­ment dark from the dew, and soon I’ll be scrap­ing ice off the car, instead of wip­ing the con­den­sa­tion from the windows.

It’s still not cool enough to leave the win­dows open all day, but the antic­i­pa­tion is enough. There’s some­thing com­fort­ing about a pre­dictable cycle, know­ing that snow will fall and melt, that things will die and grow.

mother holding baby


I can finally see the grand scheme, the chap­ters in the book we’re con­stantly writ­ing, where an end­ing means a begin­ning is on the next page.

In a way, it feels like I’m finally here, except I don’t know where here is, I just know it’s exactly where I want to be.

Me @ Twitter

The only butt-dials I get are from peo­ple with Blackberries.

3 years, 5 months ago
Me @ Twitter

You know you drive to fast when you leave the house late and get there early, even when all the red lights are against you.

3 years, 5 months ago
Me @ Twitter

It’s on, moth­er­fuck­ers. http://t.co/G6EYAWnV

3 years, 5 months ago
Me @ Twitter

Bacon and bread, but no eggs. Dare I the bacon and peanut but­ter sandwich?

3 years, 5 months ago
24 Sep 11

Jealous Jeffrey

It’s the first day we haven’t talked, some­thing nei­ther of us expected until some time next month. I think an ounce of Jäger will serve as com­pany instead, and maybe a diges­tif for the healthy salmon (who must have swam 100000km before being caught) that was thanked for din­ner. It burns the stom­ach and the throat, but doesn’t keep me warm.

Sometimes, she teases by call­ing me Jealous Jeffrey. It’s likely she’s gone to bed cause she has to get up early tomor­row, fallen asleep after a pil­sner she grabbed from work. But the mind wan­ders, and I think of her at a Sigma Nu party, being hit on by some frat boy with a popped col­lar and a striped wrist­band around his forearm.

I never worry though, not cause I know she’s mine, but because she does.