i miss spring and summer days bumming out and enjoying the relaxation. my mind cleverly edits out the faces of the people around me and turns a chaotic experience into a solitary scene.
tables turning on their own and chairs carelessly, slowly, spinning away.
empty rooms save for my inexplicably burdened body, and sunlight filtering onto the carpeted floor.
Hi y’all. Been a while now. I’m in Korea, for those out of the loop! Let’s see.. So far I’ve gotten a job and I recently got an apartment (moving in Wednesday night!), and I’ve made a couple of new friends. People.. Foreigners, actually, come to Korea for such interesting reasons. The ones I’ve run into, anyway. No wonder Koreans are so untrusting of us. Haha, I kid. But seriously, all I can think is.. People are trusting me with their kid’s education in English. I feel like I should be more responsible.
Not that I’m not.
But not that I am, either.
It can be a bit stressful living here.. So many people respond to the social demand of plastic surgery, and it’s hard not to feel inadequate whilst in a sea of mannequins.
Anyway, I’m trying hard to remind myself everyday to appreciate everyone (including myself) how they are exactly as they come.
It’s a rewarding fight.
I want to grow up and be more responsible. That’s what I want to come away with from this trip.
1. It’s 4:14 AM. I should be sleeping but I screwed around with my consciousness and fell asleep today at 5 PM.
2. A. Waking up at 9, I gorged on some quinoa and chicken. And I’ve spent my saturday night uneventfully alone. Ate an apple. Didn’t feel lonely.
B. There’s a distinction between feeling lonely and physically being alone.
3. I feel like I really can’t write these days. It just seems so exposing, and so taxing.
4. Lately, I’ve been having ideas for screenplays, and I wish I could make it perfect. The way it was when it first fell into my mind. But it seems like the more I try to hold it down, the more it distorts, until it becomes a monstrous cliche.
5. My dream of traveling begins in some time. I’ve been there before, but I’m going to reintroduce myself to it. I’ve grown and become someone different, and it’s time to reacquaint myself with mornings and nights in Seoul.
6. Seems like I’ve reached a stasis; with being okay by myself and still preventing a total close-off of the outside world. I can put down the distractions I maintain to avoid self-confrontation.
7. Growing up hardly seems as scary, now.
Hello friends :) please check out Magnetic North and Wong Fu Productions’ new music video, Home:Word.
Sending a message of family and love weathering through tough times!
Had an amazing time working with Cindy Cheung, Ed Lin, and Ray Chu :D please support and share hehe.
the color of my clouded drink matches the murk in my mind. i walk home in the fog and i make my way to the station. the air is breezy and warm, unlike what a night in december should feel. i am accepting, tonight. of the present around me, of what work entails the wednesday morning ahead.
complaints had filled my lips moments before, and then i found myself sleepily singing the anthem of rest. the march home is aware, and satisfying, and edifying. the slick cool of faint rain drops evading my umbrella calms me.
my body retains all its training and stands tall, feet walking ahead on a trail it seems to know.
it’s been a while since i last wrote anything on my tumblr. i guess i’d been so preoccupied with life crap that i couldn’t get a moment to breathe and think.
a couple of days ago, i had a crazy lucid dreaming experience.
i was at peace with my mind. i knew i belonged here, in this dream. i told myself that as i walked down streets and commanded at will the weather and the environment.
a subconscious stream of thought existed, but it was as though it were engineered by my conscious state of mind. i knew what i wanted, and instead of panicking, i translated it into feelings that my subconscious could then realize in my dreaming space.
i made it snow. i created roads that continued on and on, to destinations i was faintly aware of. i conjured whole rooms next to me, filled with things from memory, and past associations. i knew exactly where everything was in the room. vast though it was, i was the weaver; i was the architect and designer.
my room is a mess.
my metaphoric worlds are crashing.
how can you know someone and not really know.
i have questions but do i have answers
sometimes i pretend i do to help myself feel like i’m doing something with all these queries.
sometimes i won’t put down my question marks and it sounds like an answer.
i wish you would read the things i write
and maybe you’d understand why i love to read.
we are lazy lovers more interested in ourselves.
i can admit my faults
one by one.
i am selfish.
there.
now, you.
one day i’ll write a book and it will be filled with all the things about myself that i’ve learned and come to hate. except, every fault of mine will be cleverly masked behind a veil of complacence and human prettiness. and this will be called human nature by a group of unhappy students in a comparative literature class some time in the future. the discussion will die there because each student will realize that the author was crazy, and that there was no subtext or deeper meaning to it all. when the professor gets fired for being incompetent, she will sigh and throw her hands into the air in defeat, because this was the only school that let her teach despite the horribly honest book she had written.
sometimes i am tinier than the little scars on my knees. remembering the hot summers of childhood play. pushing and crying past noon against the suffocating presence of infantile authority. my skin peeling to reveal a milky, bone-colored tenderness. a slow flush of red dots engulf my knees and high-pitched screams escape my battered throat.
