The Unofficial Guide to Life
Even though it’s still summer, everything about September automatically feels different. The mornings are chillier, the songs are sadder, and I’m annoyed at myself for letting the whole season pass without wearing jean shorts even once.
Continue reading “Summer in Reality”
The other night, the neighbours in the apartment next door had a party. I could see them in a yellow room or out on the patio, drinking, smoking, talking too loud. Sometimes I feel sad that I missed the part of life where you’re supposed to go to parties all the time, and get drunk, and do stupid things. And sometimes I don’t care at all.
Continue reading “The Party Next Door”
There is someone on my street who has excellent taste in music. I don’t recognize half the songs playing, but all of them are evocative, sentimental, and oddly cheerful, reminding me of the type of songs a person would listen to in the olden days, or when looking back on life, or while in the middle of living a very colourful life, or because he knows a great deal about life, or because he just really like dancing or staring into space.
Continue reading “My Neighbour’s Music”
Reading on a windowsill is not just sitting on a windowsill with your nose in a book. Since the beginning, it’s meant something more to me. The image of some ideal life I wanted to achieve, a symbol of being luxuriously lazy, of having an infinite amount of time, of being young enough or old enough to be free from real life.
Continue reading “Reading on a Windowsill”
My past relationship with time was twisted. I had too much of it and then I never had enough. When I was in elementary school, I remember tapping my fingers on my desk waiting for Christmas break. Even when the air was cold, we rushed outside but we couldn’t rush fast enough: it was only lunch recess.
Continue reading “My Friend, Time”
When I get tired of lying on my bed, looking up at the ceiling, I sometimes lie on the floor. There’s something I find comforting about the hardness of the surface beneath me. It feels supportive and solid, and I like knowing that this is the bottom and the ground is holding me, and that I am safe.
Continue reading “Looking Up”
Apparently, teenagers go through a phase where all they do, or want to do, is sleep. This was something I never experienced – but then again, I don’t think I experienced a lot of ‘normal’ teenager activity. In the times before, I didn’t have time to nap or feel tired enough to sleep during the middle of the day. Eventually, I reached a point where I physically couldn’t ease my body into slumber because it felt awkward and I felt like there were better things to do with my time than close the curtain while the sun was shining.
Continue reading “Naps”
The British daffodils I bought for 0.99p are dead. They’ve shrunk and withered and yet, they’re still sitting on my windowsill and every time I walk towards the apartment, I look up in search of my window with the dead daffodils. After all this time, I should probably throw them out but it’s just like me to cling to dead things and hope that they’ll come back to life.
Continue reading “Dead Daffodils”
There is no denying the wild horse in us, said Virgina Woolf. There’s more to the quote but that’s the part I like best. Essentially, the quote is about passion which means it’s about feeling things deeply which means it’s about having a heart. Most of the time, I don’t think people feel things to their full extent and I blame that on a lot of things, mainly fear. We are afraid of being vulnerable, and of being too much. Also, we forget how to feel things. Like many things growing up, the permission to experience true emotion is trampled out of us from a young age. It’s hardly appropriate to be fully governed by emotions after the age of two.
Continue reading “Wild Horses”