At security, I’m selected randomly for a screening. The guard asks my age. “Twenty…”, I begin, trying to remember if I’m 27, 28, or 29. “Twenty. Okay.”, he says, cutting me off. Somehow, he believes I look nearly a decade younger than I am. For two days, I’m packed light, with no checked baggage. In my rush, I forget to get some American money. This worries me.
It hasn’t stopped raining since I woke up this morning, and now it’s dark, with only the streetlamps and their reflections in the puddles for light. It’s cold outside.
This is a good thing.
I feel like the eponymous character in Onegin. Sitting on the balcony in the dead of winter, waiting for a letter. His servant, handing him a stemmed glass of vodka, asks him to come inside because it’s cold. “I like the cold” he replies, as he resigns himself to his fate.
He walks down the streets of Saint Petersburg, and his motif comes in on the piano, followed by strings. FADE TO BLACK.
A stoic face to the world. Can I say stoic? I like stoic.
These titles are getting harder and harder to write.
And I want to say that I’m melancholy, but I’m not. But I’m not giddy either. My emotions aren’t black and white. They’re a mixture of ups and down. I don’t know what to say when I don’t know what I’m feeling or what comes next.
I’m just waiting. Passive. Yielding.
My fish is bulimic. He always stays at the bottom of his bowl. When I drop food pellets in the water, he swims towards the ripples, nibbles on one, then spits it back out. Then he slowly floats to the bottom of the bowl again, resting his fins flat on the pebbles.
Along with the first spider of the season (which I killed tonight), spring has brought hope. For some reason, I think it’s going to be a good summer. I can’t even explain why. Maybe I miss the heat, or I had good memories of last summer, or this is happening again1. I’ve been listening to the songs I discovered last summer in anticipation. Like this one, by Jenny Owen Youngs:
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Holy crap. Listening to this song now is…fucked. I always thought it was a good song, but never really related to the lyrics. Until now.
Due to the wintery economic climate2, they’ve limited my hours at work. So much for keeping the brain busy; it appears that I’m running out of places to hide3. While this came at a time when I really needed the money, I’m glad to have more free time now. It seems like every day I’m rushing to do this or that, with barely a chance to breathe, living to work, instead of working to live. I’m wondering if I can just stop, decide to live with some debt, and just relax.
This was the first night I had to myself, and it was only because other plans fell through. The only chance I had to relax was spending an hour customizing the icons on my new Mac Mini. Aside from a weeknight here and there to catch up with John over some Warcraft 3, I haven’t actually sat down to play a game in a long time. I’m hoping that at some point, I’ll be able to slow down and enjoy things again.
Although I’m not sure if I want that right now.
One of the notable differences here is the humidity. The pages of my book are beginning to wrinkle. Towels don’t dry when they’re hung on a line. Even though it’s 20°C outside, it feels more like 15°C because it’s so damp. Humidity is something that Hong Kong is known for, as it’s surrounded by water and filled with tall buildings. It makes me wonder how people deal with mold in their houses.
Ironically, it “rained” two days in a row, but the rain was so weak that I had to ask others if they felt the droplets. Very different from Ottawa, where rainfall goes beyond obvious, and can last for days on end.
I’m almost ready for spring. The winter isn’t getting on my nerves quite yet. The only thing I miss right now is being able to drive comfortably without a heavy coat on.
I’ve been feeling terribly helpless lately. There are so many things in my life that are out of my control — health, love, money, work — that I’ve actually considered doing a thought record for the first time since I finished therapy. Last week I woke up choking in the middle of the night. Then half way through the day I started developing moderate chest pains. I try not to worry when I’m awake, but at night, in my sleep, everything comes out. Maybe everything is starting to get to me.
I want things to happen quickly. I’m impatient. I want to be proactive, but there’s not much I can do. Verse 42 of the Tao Te Ching has been speaking to me:
Who knows what fate may bring —
one day your loss may be your fortune
one day your fortune may be your loss
While I usually crave the flux between constancy and change, I prefer it in one thing at a time. It feels like I’m going through another transition period. Nothing around me is settled.
All I can do is wait to see where I end up.
It’s been snowing for three days now, the first real snowfall of the season. It’s a wonderful feeling to look outside and see it falling1. Winter brings it’s own sort of coziness, like the way sun is for sports and rain is for movies.
A lot of people don’t like the winter, whether it’s because they get tired shoveling, they’re late from cleaning the car, they don’t like dealing with the messiness, or they simply hate being cold. To me, it’s all part and parcel of living in the Great White North. The summer brings as many unpleasant issues — burning car seats, stifling heat, unavoidable sweat. I wouldn’t be able to appreciate one if it wasn’t for the other.
I tend to get tired of the weather only at the end of each season, because they seem to drag on for so long2. It’s a never-ending cycle of enjoying the new season, then missing the next one.
There’s this great poem by Shioh T’ao I think of when trying to explain this:
Spring comes, and I look at the birds;
Summer comes, and I take a bath in the stream;
Autumn comes, and I climb to the top of the mountain;
Winter comes, and I make the most of the sunlight for warmth.
This is how I savor the passage of the seasons.
My version would go something like this:
Spring comes, and I admire the blossoming feminine beauty;
Summer comes, and I go for a drive;
Autumn comes, and I fall in love with everything;
Winter comes, and I cherish the warmth.
This is how I savor the passage of the seasons.
This is why I love Canada. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
For now, I’m enjoying the snow.
In any case, I’ve been working on my projects, though mostly trying to finish the ones I’ve started. Sometimes it seems like there’s no end. Aside from an awesome Friday night (and an hour after dinner on Saturday night trying to digest a big meal), I’ve been working non-stop this weekend.
At the very least, the days have brought much rain, and even more inspiration. I miss the snow, but the rain satisfies for now. I’m not even sure if I like how early the sun sets at this time of year. Both day and night affect the mind in different ways, bringing out (or masking) different parts of you that you forgot were there. Each has its own importance.
At one point, I realized that life is a series of Jens, from winter to winter.
There’s been much music too, so much that I’m thinking about starting up a podcast again. But it’s another project, another idea I have yet to do.
I could have written so much more about each one of these topics, but I tried to keep digression to a minimum. They’d end up being full-blown entries of their own, and I’d never finish writing anything. For these entries, the ones that ramble about no subject in particular, I always look for lyrics, or titles, or snippets from other people’s entries that sort of explain the mood I’m in. Yep.
I’ve been feeling disconnected, somewhat forgetting my Taoist teachings. This is probably a good thing, as I tend to be focused on the thought and theories too often, and not enough on the application.
There’s a fine line between resignation and acceptance. But sometimes I feel like I’ve fallen face-first to one side.
To be honest, I’ve been writing this entry for over a week now, but my thoughts and ideas keep branching out. Every time I sit down at the computer, I delete something that’s lost relevance, and add something more. Like this.
My room is a mess, a side-effect of my busy schedule. I should be cleaning. Hell, I should be sleeping, but I’d rather write instead, seeing as how I haven’t had a chance in four days. It would appear as if I’m going through some sort of expression withdrawal.
Vincent Gallo practically wrote this entry for me.
I had When by Vincent Gallo playing here.
(If you’re going to listen to this song, turn the lights down, or at least close your eyes. Remove yourself of any ambient noise. Breathe slowly for 30 seconds before playing it. This song deserves it. You deserve it.)
Even though it went up to 28°C today, the morning started cold and calm. There was so much moisture in the air that one could taste the grey.
It made me strangely stoic when I left the house. Something about the whether that reminded me of how comforting it can be to feel sad. It’s as if the earth had decided to compliment my mood with cloud cover. I can’t even explain the cause of my sadness, and can only guess that realization and acceptance are setting in. The only saving grace is that I feel confident enough to pick myself up and move on. Not that I want to do it alone right now. Wish I had the option.
As the day dragged on, things started to wear me down. Exhaustion dried my eyes. I kept trying to pick myself up, kept trying to hide my sighing sadness from those around me, to no avail.
Wish I had a smile in my wardrobe for days like this.
I was late for work this morning. The weather was beautiful on the drive in. There were thick, dark clouds hanging ominously in the distance and high in the sky, but the sun was out, bathing everything in brightness. The wind was refreshingly cool, so I had to roll the windows down.
In another weird phase lately. Hyper again. Currently feeling this part from verse 35 of the Tao Te Jing:
Hold fast to the Great Form within and let the world pass as it may
Then the changes of life will not bring pain but contentment, joy, and well-being
Sometimes, I feel like I’m being tested. It hasn’t really been going badly, but it’s certainly a mix of ups and downs, resolutions and frustrations.
I started to notice that I’ve been talking to myself when alone. Sometimes I laugh aloud too. I once read an article about a young man who did a solo transatlantic journey by boat that took several weeks, and he said that talking to yourself is normal; it’s when you start to answer your own questions that you should be worried. I think I’ll be alright.
I’ve come to accept the way things have turned out. I’ve felt this way before, but it never lasted more than a couple months, something that happens when I lose sight of the tao. Hopefully it won’t be so ephemeral this time. I just need to remember that things will continue to work out on their own. To stop trying to force things to happen. To breathe.
And to hold fast to the way that cannot be walked.
Go outside. Right now.
It’s dark. It’s cool. It’s breezy. Grass has replaced the snow. Walking downtown, the smell of shawarma from every Lebanese restaurant, the people shedding their coats, the surfacing skin, it’s as if the world is blooming while the sun has set.
All I want is for you to be here with me. To share this moment with you.
It’s a pity to be alone on nights like this.
Snow is a relatively hard thing to capture on film. With so much white, there’s very little contrast or texture, so nothing to lead the eye. You want to give a sense of being suffocated by all this now, but too much of the same thing in a picture becomes boring. It’s balancing the subject and working with available light that becomes important.
I don’t think we’ve reached the record for snowfall yet, but we’re close. I tried to walk to work, but gave up. Even trudging through the snow to get these shots left me sweating. It’s days like these that I’m thankful that I live in a condo, because my condo fees go towards shoveling the parking lot. People told me they had to shovel their driveways a couple times in one night.
I’m sitting on my chaise in the dark, Macbook Pro in lap, curtains open to the snow outside. Every now and then, the wind catches a loose patch of snow, and it sounds like sand dragging along the ground outside. If you close your eyes, it’s like you’re sitting on a beach at low-tide under a night sky.
I haven’t done this in a while.
The show is over. There’s supposed to be one more interview next week, but at least I can breathe now. I’ve finally had time to clean the house, which is probably why I feel comfortable enough to write.
There are icons for movies on my desktop, ones I’ve started watching but haven’t finished, because I haven’t been able to emotionally invest in them. I did, however, get a chance to watch Cidade de Deus which is the best movie I’ve seen in months, and Constantine, purely for the Tilda-Swinton-as-angel factor.
I realized that I like girls who look like boys. I hope this doesn’t mean I’m gay.
On a sticky, I seem to have written “a small pair of skis”. I don’t remember doing this, or what for. There’s also a phone number there with no name. I want to call the number to find out who it is, but I’d just hang up if someone answered and that’d be rude.
I should call Dan. I should reorganize my photos for appropriate backup. I should be practicing Tai Chi. I should be having more fun. I should be filling out my thought record worksheets.
But right now, I should really be in bed.
It snowed all day yesterday, and well into the night. The whiteness outside reflects the sky and has filled my house with bright light. It’s the weekend and I’m awake.
I’ve fallen in love with smoothies. They are usually comprised of three bananas, three tangerines, a third of a pineapple, yogurt, juice, and frozen 4-fruit berry or summer fruit salad. I have three a day. This makes me poo like crazy.
Life has been exhaustingly busy. The photo sessions are over, post-processing is done, and my pictures are all printed. The only thing left is to get them framed. I had my first session with my psychologist. I’m cancelling my Tai Chi tomorrow. I have to plan my relaxation, and this doesn’t make it very relaxing.
This weekend I hope to:
Next week is going to be even more crazy, no pun intended. Monday I’m meeting with the framer, Tuesday and Thursday I have Tai Chi, Wednesday I’m having dinner at the gallery and meeting the other artists.
I haven’t been sleeping well. In the midst of all this sociability, I’ve been battling my anxiety. It’s filled me with a quiet determination, but the long exposure has worn me down.
Turning over and over in the sky, length after length of whiteness unwound over the earth and shrouded it. The blizzard was alone in the world; it had no rival.
When he climbed down from the window sill Yura’s first impulse was to dress, run outside, and start doing something.
—Doctor Zhivago
When one looks outside their window and sees this, this blanket of purity, what else can one feel but serenity, contentment, and hope?
It hasn’t stopped pouring since I woke up. I’m traveling through the city in my favourite hoodie. Thinking about you and your delicate wrists. The photos I took of you smiling, always looking away. Wondering what it must be like in your world. Wondering if we’ll ever meet again. Wondering what you meant when you told me it’s hard to be alone when you’re told you’re growing old.
I write this so I won’t have to write about you again.
Perhaps in a simpler world things would have worked out differently, and you would have given me a second thought.
But I have no tears in me.
The sky weeps instead.
