All Is Well

I am angry frustrated unhappy tired disappointed

I keep having to remind myself it’s ok to feel this way; the journey is fraught with hardship and there is a certain drive in emotion a past self said. It is saddling the disgust I feel for failure and turning it into a force for progress and change and improvement. I cannot slip now after I have come so far. This will not be the end of me. I cannot let it.

Mind over matter. I remember last year during pt I told Yiyun about my litany of rationalizations—all these things I put in my head as safeguards against failure: the court has funny floor, my ankle is loose, I didn’t sleep enough last night—and she said no more excuses and I nodded and we ran. And it was okay because succeeding with a crutch to hold you up is not success.

There’s a reason why I never liked rock climbing. It’s too precarious, too exhaustingly uncertain. There is no one way to do anything, no one path you are bound to take. And climbing further up means hoisting yourself further from solid ground and confidence, into a medley of chaos and grasping onto tiny slivers of fake rock that have turned black from the residue of hundreds of climbers before you. Hanging off the edge, taking chances to reach up and over and past what you think you can do,is risky business.

A champion challenges herself to be better than what she thinks she can be, and succeeds says me from the past. I know all these things in theory but in practice life is much much harder. Perhaps all I really have to do, honestly, is look up.

Back and forth; then back again

Well, here we are. There is little time but all the time, little to do but all the work spanning out before me in a series of uninspiring days that perhaps, and this is all conjecture, but perhaps will mould together into the time of my life.

Today was a good start to the time of my life part of this equation: good food, great company, being busy enough in the moment not to want to document it (except for one very sweet although mildly incriminating video). It’s difficult, I think, not to want to record every memory and show it to the world on all the social media platforms ever. It’s difficult to feel like being here in this instant to feel and witness and see and love is enough—that my mind will hold fast to these things that are true long enough that I can commit them to memory.

But I find, always, that the camera lens is constricting: it blinkers and it restrains and I cannot see beyond what I am framing to build a better picture of the world around me; even if I could, the immaculate beauty of imperfection cannot hold all of my halfhearted attempts to clasp it in the palm of my hand.

So maybe I’m going about things wrong. Maybe instead of the sum of all these days congealing into a forever sort of happiness, it’s the in-betweens that punctuate an otherwise adequate life with fleeting but unassuming joy. And maybe I shouldn’t get so caught up in trying to preserve delight that I forget to experience it, because each day counts towards so little, and yet so much. Maybe that’s what this is about: not that sort of #yolo bullshit, but recognizing the fact that joy is ephemeral and taking it when it comes and letting it go willingly when it is time.

Heads on shoulders, hearts on sleeves.

 

My physiotherapist, teaching my how to mobilize my joint: I’m just afraid you’ll push it too hard and injure—actually, you know what? Never mind, it’s so tight I don’t think it’s possible for you to injure yourself.

Me: Thanks a lot.

Asleep at the wheel

It was good to feel the burn today. Frantic heaving breath sloshing across court in my slippery court shoes on the shiny wooden floor, that surge of life chasing down a counter-attack, angry leaden indecision between brain and bone. It was good to feel that burn sting more each time until I let it ebb away, reminding myself that this feeling is nothing in comparison to what is to come, that 100% means nothing short of yes and then yes again.

The court is bigger and wider and scarier these days, but it is also more familiar than it has ever been. There are perhaps many things that have yet to be done—I remind myself constantly—but in this moment, all is well. There is time to fix what I have not; perhaps there is less than enough time, but there is time nonetheless.

There is time to try, but for the moment all there is to do is rest.

Hope is the Thing with Feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

- Emily Dickinson

My Mother Says:

“Last night I couldn’t go to sleep so I decided to eat some bak kwa. And then after that I still couldn’t sleep so I went online shopping and I bought myself four iPhone cases! [gleefully] Now I can match my phone case to my outfit! And it’s not just any four random iPhone cases—they were all half-price!

And after that I went to bed. It’s the power of retail therapy!”

I’m still here!

Orientation was crazy and amazing and I didn’t have time to take any (good) pictures so I didn’t—but that doesn’t make it any less unforgettable!

Instead here are some pictures of food that I made tonight
Chop banana, chop chop banana
Fry banana, fry fry banana
Cinnamon! Yay for cinnamon in everything
Leave a can of condensed milk to simmer for four hours…
And it becomes a magical tin of toffee!
It looks so goooooooood
I accidentally exploded a ramekin of butter in the microwave, so I had to clean it. On the bright side, I learnt how to clean a microwave!
While that was happening, my babies were baking in the oven. Look at that rolling shutter screwup of a digital display! Ha.
Mmmm.

.recipe.

Here is today on a platter for me to serve:

1. Double math blocks, which never fail to offset the burden of being a humans kid. Answers except QED are hard to find.
2. Trying to unravel Sergeant Troy’s red coat
3. Eating Animals in a 1990s video starring a metrosexual wrestler with a dangly earring and fluorescent keywords
4. H3 finalized save minor edits and a floating raft that can only lead to enlightenment about nothing in particular but everything in general. Understanding even the minuscule world of literature is difficult too, QED
5. Full batch attendance at training, which was a happy polaroid family reunion before the kiddos come to disturb our fraught andbutso unburdened peace
6. Aggravation, but mostly at myself for not being better when I know I can be, for not being on fire when I know I can be, for not being there when I know I can be.
7. Communicating. Or trying to. Or not. Or something.

Trying is a very apt word for these few weeks, but it’s never not worth it. I tell Evan at the busstop as the yellow light casts distorted shadows on people going home that there’s no such thing as wanting it just enough- you either want it or you don’t. There is something here of Yoda, but why wouldn’t you trust a jedi master?

6 Things I Would Buy From Crate & Barrel

Recently I learnt that Crate & Barrel (aka Yes Mother Please Let’s Go In & Spend Some Money On Household Items We Neither Need Nor Want) was setting up shop at ION Orchard. Also recently, I learnt  that Eugene doubts my ability to apply my real-life skills to real-life situations.

So I thought I would indulge the materialism innate in my being and show you six things under $60 that I would totally buy from Crate & Barrel with my $60 gift certificate from Crate & Barrel (if anyone wants to give me one, the answer is yes please).

In other news, please don’t let me near Crate & Barrel. Ever.

ONE: Ribbed Aqua Bath Towels ($13-$46)

I realize no one really thinks about buying nice towels, but if you think about it, having towels you love means that every day you wrap yourself up in something lovely. Wouldn’t you love to be hugged by these towels? I mean, showering at home is such a chore but wouldn’t the thought of a fluffy, absorbent towel just makes me want to hop into the shower??

TWO: Cerrado Box ($33)

I’m actually a really big sucker for wooden things. They’re always so smooth and whole and earthy— the only problem is I never want to put things in wooden boxes because it’s like sullying the perfection of nature… or something. This box will be no different. But why not buy it anyway?

THREE: Telescoping Fork ($12)

The name aside (why would you not want something called a telescoping fork??), here are some things this fork could be used for:

a) Roasting s’mores
b) Self-protection
c) Turkeys
d) If you added another spike it would be a good trident for a small child

FOUR: Walnut 13″ Clock ($58)

Again with the wood, I know—but it’s so round. I don’t understand how people resist smooth round wooden houseware, so I am probably never going to be able to go near wooden bowls ever. If we ignore my fetishes, though, I do really like the sharp lines against the dark wood.

FIVE: Round Pizza Grilling Stone ($53)

One word: pizza

Another word: round

SIX: Nuit Mug ($26)

Other than wood, the other material I like looking out for is this sort of stone/matte glazed porcelain thing. Stuff made out of this material looks so strong and yet so fragile at the same time, which is appealing in a very confusing way. It’s also really clean, and it looks a little like a chalkboard. Somehow this is also appealing.

This is what it’s going to be

The week over, I find myself sitting at home on Friday evening exhausted by nothing in particular. But it isn’t really nothing—it’s everything. It’s the early mornings, the lectures, the intellectual involvement that seems to be demanded in greater and more consistent quantities this year than ever before…

I find myself trying to take stock just a little behind schedule. New Year’s was jet lag and bedtime, and although every new year brings with it the promise of new files and books and correction tape refills (which I am a much bigger fan of than you would imagine), this year the curtain on a whole new year rose and it turned out to be just the same as the last one.

I went to bed last year and woke up this year. It was stumbling out of bed already tired and then wandering downstairs to face the heat that wraps you in your skin and makes you feel too conscious of all the space you occupy with your miscellaneous body parts, and I am threatened this year too by the consideration that next year there will be no new files and books; there will only be that vast expanse of freedom that restrains more than it releases.

In some senses this is the last new year that will ever be the same—but at the same time I am somehow convinced every year has been and will be the same song played in a different key.