1/27
Yesterday (1/26) resulted in quite a bit of mood variation.
I woke up and worked until 12pm on prepping for the writing course, then went out for a run. It was dismally overcast and not ideal running weather, but not the worst either. For about 30 minutes I ran, going all the way to Atlantic then crossing and turning onto Linden. I'd never run in that area before, and briefly felt anxious about possibly coming across people from Grace (our old-old church). Also I remembered that the Smittles live nearby, and recalled the days when Claire and I would walk to the donut shop down the street. Most of the time though, as I sped past neighborhoods and people leaving churches, I felt ecstatic. I listened to Owl City and praised God. At home, I cooled down, ate lunch, then planned to read at Cerritos Library. They close at 5pm on Sundays, so I decided to try a coffee place before church at 6pm.
By 3:30pm, I arrived at the library. The sliding doors opened and I was immediately drawn to the arch on the right, with READING ROOM written on it, framing a cozy yet open area with chandeliers, wooden furniture, and carpeting. I entered and peered around, pulling out a couple of beautifully designed covers, observing the other visitors, and searching for the right seat. It was mildly crowded, so I had to choose a chair on the side, yet I enjoyed my spot. If I leaned back I could look directly at this old man sitting on the other side a book stack. A better spot would be a pillow or ledge inside the cubby area with special editions, yet it's also somewhat dim in there. I remained glued to my book for about an hour. When I looked up my eyes felt a little dizzy. Once again, I'm glad I chose to read my current story, Kafka, at a stunning library, as the main character spends very much of his time in one, and ends up working there. Perhaps I should try working at Cerritos Library. It's miles better than little Dana on Atlantic - not that I'm ungrateful for it, afterall, I've gotten most of my books there and the staff are nice. It simply lacks any atmosphere. By 4:40 I headed to a popular coffee place I was curious about, yet it was overly crowded. There was little space, and just looking inside made me anxious. So I redirected to a nearby Starbucks on South st. It was also pretty packed, but I felt comfortable at a shared table, since I still had a good amount of room. I ordered a tall hot coffee, waited some time to have milk added to it, then pulled out my book and an apple I'd brought. I slowly ate it with my coffee as I settled back into the story.
The first turn came when I checked the time, and noticed an email from FB telling me that my ex had at last accepted my friend request I'd sent months before. This was quite distracting, and accompanied by an intense chapter from the perspective of an old lady's letter on her unusually sexually charged dream, leaving me feeling a little unstable. Then in the following chapter, the main character has an odd sexual interaction with the girl Sakura, and I felt like his whole response to the situation reminded me of my ex. At around 5:45, I left to my car feeling off and distraught. I cried a bit as I listened to the christian radio, which was telling me to 'dry my tears' and 'step into the new' and wave goodbye. When I got to church I had calmed down. I spotted Sean, Leo, Micah, and a high schooler, and joined them. We talked about Kobe Bryant, then books, Lord of the Flies, and a dream Sean had. In service, it felt very different to be next to them instead of family, or just myself. It was somewhat distracting, but I tried to focus on the lyrics and singing intentionally. The sermon was very powerful - Jack was passionately preaching that there is an enemy, and that we can find strength in the name and power of Jesus. I took illustrated notes, as usual, but I think this also took a bit of my attention. Overall, I could only see my problems as small and not as serious/overwhelming as they could be, and wondered whether this was preparing me for something.
Afterwards, I stood (not able to talk much) with Leo and Caleb and 2 students outside, experiencing how awkward I am and beginning to have a stomach ache. I left a little later, bothered that Caleb didn't seem to want to talk to me. It's been difficult to feel included and liked. Leo and Sean have been welcoming, which is nice. Kris and Jezy are receptive as well. In groups though, I think it's tough for them to see how disconnected I feel. I'm not sure I want to tell them either, since it may improve naturally as I am around them more, and I don't want them to feel obligated.
Anyways, I drove away emotionally and physically in pain. I stopped to get the cheap Arco gas and the guy at the register said "only if you smile," when I asked for $20 worth of gas. I did, and laughed a bit, since I probably looked very upset as I waited in line. While I struggled with filling my car, some young guy in an SUV leaned out and got my attention. Initially I thought he was going to say something about how poor of a job I was having with the gas nozzle, but instead he said, "I think you're really pretty. Just wanted to let you know..." I blushed and thanked him, then got in my car and cried. I cried out to the Lord, asking him what he was trying to tell me. Why are strangers sometimes kinder than friends?
My stomach ache escalated, and I hypothesized it was due to finishing a cup of full-caff coffee, with little food before hand. I am as sensitive to caffeine as I am alcohol, apparently. It was excruciating and nauseating, but after 2 pain killers, some oatmeal, and an acid reducer, it subsided. Then disappeared completely, as if it never happened, and I ate a bunch of snacks, relieved to feel normal again.
tmp
time measurement theory
1/26
Just realized in a discussion with myself why time can move strangely to us. At least, it's a theory anyway. It came to when thinking about how it's been 5 weeks since being with ex, and how it feels both long and short ago. My routine was completely altered, and I've been doing new things with new friends. Previous to 5 weeks, I'd pass time thinking about or being with my ex. My time was measured by events relative to him, and a different pace. As I've been centered around community at church, and my Latin teaching, and my fasting & prayer every morning, I am still adjusting to these new routines and how I am using my time. I don't have old checkpoints of seeing/speaking to him. But I think it's deeper than that - I no longer have the emotional checkpoints, the same dip and peak pattern that had become normal. Life is more mellow now. I certainly do feel very down, or very anxious, yet the thoughts don't linger or return in the same way as they did. The only echo is my loneliness, yet that has always been there. My point, to clarify - we don't really measure time in terms of dates and numbers, but emotional and habitual states.
tmp
Just realized in a discussion with myself why time can move strangely to us. At least, it's a theory anyway. It came to when thinking about how it's been 5 weeks since being with ex, and how it feels both long and short ago. My routine was completely altered, and I've been doing new things with new friends. Previous to 5 weeks, I'd pass time thinking about or being with my ex. My time was measured by events relative to him, and a different pace. As I've been centered around community at church, and my Latin teaching, and my fasting & prayer every morning, I am still adjusting to these new routines and how I am using my time. I don't have old checkpoints of seeing/speaking to him. But I think it's deeper than that - I no longer have the emotional checkpoints, the same dip and peak pattern that had become normal. Life is more mellow now. I certainly do feel very down, or very anxious, yet the thoughts don't linger or return in the same way as they did. The only echo is my loneliness, yet that has always been there. My point, to clarify - we don't really measure time in terms of dates and numbers, but emotional and habitual states.
tmp
my book theory
1/17
When you start a new book, you should find a new place or frame of mind to read it than the previous one. This is what I believe had contributed to my enjoyment of several books, and I know from other's experience had greatly impacted their impressions of the story. For example, I read 'Olive's Ocean' when I was in RI, not too far from Cape Cod and dreaming of the ocean, and falling in love with writing. When my flight out of BOS after graduation and all was delayed (eventually overnight) I bought 'Wind-Up Bird' and began reading it in the airport. I read 'Marriage Plot' (which takes place at Brown/RI) at home as I processed post-grad memories and feelings. I also read 'Hard-Boiled Wonderland' at home, yet around when I was working on my 'Esse' story, and couldn't help but feel I was copying him with my double dream/surreal world plot. 'Franny & Zooey' I read in several places, including in between teaching, and I'd been given it from my ex, when we first split up. (He knew I'd relate terribly much to Franny, which was so true I felt unoriginal yet okay with that for once. If I've gained anything undeniably worthwhile from him, it is my found love of Salinger.) Not too long ago, I borrowed 'After Dark' and 'Raise High the Roof-Beam, Carpenters, & Seymour'. As I've recorded previously, I read 'After Dark' when the title states, and at the beginning of an all-nighter. Perfection. Then I got to 'Seymour' after my snake had passed, reading it carefully at my new desk until I'm too drowsy to move. (Buddy Glass style) Now, I've begun 'Kafka on the Shore' - I'd peeked into a few pages earlier, but I actually got to reading this afternoon at Seal Beach.
For the past few days, I've been wanting to run away - specifically to Irvine, to hold him in my arms again. In order to divert myself I've been working, either on teaching or projects, but it's difficult to be at home for too long. On Thursday, I went walking for about an hour, listening to Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. Yesterday I wanted to drive, so I headed to my favorite Starbucks in the LBX area, and was lucky to find a perfectly empty table. But today, it was warmer out, and I had a strong image of reading my newest Murakami on the beach that I could not get out of my head. My bag was packed with a blue & green patterned towel, my notebook, a pencil, my white canteen, half an apple in a baggie, the book, and my wallet. I wore my cream-colored long sleeve and GAP zip-up but also brought my red jacket since I knew it'd get cold. The time was 3:30pm when I left and it took about 20 minutes to drive to the pier. It was easy enough to find a spot, and not abnormally clear on the shore, since it is January. There were several couples evenly spaced about me. As I decided upon an area to lay my towel, I turned around and realized it felt unfamiliar. The lifeguard towers had been removed. It's likely I was sitting very near to the tower where I'd attempted to sing a song to him, but just ended up quietly playing ukulele. (and pretending to be mad) But now it's an area for seagulls to huddle like a bunch of beached clams.
I burrowed a dip in the sand for my butt and sat on my towel, with my legs extended straight in front of me so I could read from my lap. It was already mildly cold so I put my hoodie over my head. While 'Kafka' was being greeted by a girl stranger who is slightly older, an older man, probably in his 50's, came nearby. At first I was nervous, yet he pulled out a camera and was clearly solely focused on the reddening sun. I had stop reading for awhile to fully absorb the sunset myself. The clouds were pulling outward, as if the sun was weighing down their sheets and causing folds. The saturated glow tinted most everything slightly pink. Then suddenly, the field of clammed gulls lifted and cut little black eyelids across the sky. In a small storm, they continued out towards the horizon until I couldn't see them anymore. At many instances I nearly cried. I could've, but I was still technically in public and self-conscious about the old photographer next to me. It was a beautiful aloneness yet it verged on despairing loneliness.
When I could no longer read by the sun, about 5:30pm, I packed up and walked some ways down by the pier. I walked back not much later since I only had parking til 6pm. I peered over the left side (from facing the sea) into the water, and the inky darkness felt oddly familiar. I soon remembered how many times I'd leaned to stare at the inky water in the Providence canal when I'd be coming back from studio.
tmp
When you start a new book, you should find a new place or frame of mind to read it than the previous one. This is what I believe had contributed to my enjoyment of several books, and I know from other's experience had greatly impacted their impressions of the story. For example, I read 'Olive's Ocean' when I was in RI, not too far from Cape Cod and dreaming of the ocean, and falling in love with writing. When my flight out of BOS after graduation and all was delayed (eventually overnight) I bought 'Wind-Up Bird' and began reading it in the airport. I read 'Marriage Plot' (which takes place at Brown/RI) at home as I processed post-grad memories and feelings. I also read 'Hard-Boiled Wonderland' at home, yet around when I was working on my 'Esse' story, and couldn't help but feel I was copying him with my double dream/surreal world plot. 'Franny & Zooey' I read in several places, including in between teaching, and I'd been given it from my ex, when we first split up. (He knew I'd relate terribly much to Franny, which was so true I felt unoriginal yet okay with that for once. If I've gained anything undeniably worthwhile from him, it is my found love of Salinger.) Not too long ago, I borrowed 'After Dark' and 'Raise High the Roof-Beam, Carpenters, & Seymour'. As I've recorded previously, I read 'After Dark' when the title states, and at the beginning of an all-nighter. Perfection. Then I got to 'Seymour' after my snake had passed, reading it carefully at my new desk until I'm too drowsy to move. (Buddy Glass style) Now, I've begun 'Kafka on the Shore' - I'd peeked into a few pages earlier, but I actually got to reading this afternoon at Seal Beach.
For the past few days, I've been wanting to run away - specifically to Irvine, to hold him in my arms again. In order to divert myself I've been working, either on teaching or projects, but it's difficult to be at home for too long. On Thursday, I went walking for about an hour, listening to Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. Yesterday I wanted to drive, so I headed to my favorite Starbucks in the LBX area, and was lucky to find a perfectly empty table. But today, it was warmer out, and I had a strong image of reading my newest Murakami on the beach that I could not get out of my head. My bag was packed with a blue & green patterned towel, my notebook, a pencil, my white canteen, half an apple in a baggie, the book, and my wallet. I wore my cream-colored long sleeve and GAP zip-up but also brought my red jacket since I knew it'd get cold. The time was 3:30pm when I left and it took about 20 minutes to drive to the pier. It was easy enough to find a spot, and not abnormally clear on the shore, since it is January. There were several couples evenly spaced about me. As I decided upon an area to lay my towel, I turned around and realized it felt unfamiliar. The lifeguard towers had been removed. It's likely I was sitting very near to the tower where I'd attempted to sing a song to him, but just ended up quietly playing ukulele. (and pretending to be mad) But now it's an area for seagulls to huddle like a bunch of beached clams.
I burrowed a dip in the sand for my butt and sat on my towel, with my legs extended straight in front of me so I could read from my lap. It was already mildly cold so I put my hoodie over my head. While 'Kafka' was being greeted by a girl stranger who is slightly older, an older man, probably in his 50's, came nearby. At first I was nervous, yet he pulled out a camera and was clearly solely focused on the reddening sun. I had stop reading for awhile to fully absorb the sunset myself. The clouds were pulling outward, as if the sun was weighing down their sheets and causing folds. The saturated glow tinted most everything slightly pink. Then suddenly, the field of clammed gulls lifted and cut little black eyelids across the sky. In a small storm, they continued out towards the horizon until I couldn't see them anymore. At many instances I nearly cried. I could've, but I was still technically in public and self-conscious about the old photographer next to me. It was a beautiful aloneness yet it verged on despairing loneliness.
When I could no longer read by the sun, about 5:30pm, I packed up and walked some ways down by the pier. I walked back not much later since I only had parking til 6pm. I peered over the left side (from facing the sea) into the water, and the inky darkness felt oddly familiar. I soon remembered how many times I'd leaned to stare at the inky water in the Providence canal when I'd be coming back from studio.
tmp
im a sleepy impostor
1/15
Took a walk this afternoon, as always, and felt compelled to keep a catalog of what I found.
dogs being walked - 6
bald old men - 2
houses being remodeled - 4 (most loudly, with table saw sounds)
several birds, including phoebe, yellow finch, hawk, and the usual crow murder
I pricked my finger upon 1 leaf, and imagined I was sleeping beauty, soon to fall into a slumber. I'm not sure what type of slumber - I have been literally more sleepy lately, due to calorie deficit. Yet I did eat more/differently today. Instead of only smoothies until dinner, I've decided to follow a partial-fasting schedule, where I only eat from 12pm - 8pm. (although, I am dishonest - I just finished my oatmeal and it's 20 past 9pm) The goal of the fast was not to be thinking about the fast itself, but about God. It all to quickly reveals how human I am.
My dad approached me in concern, while I was reading 'Seymour, an Introduction.' Without explanation, he kneeled close to me and put his phone out on my desk, and began playing an excerpt from Malcom Gladwell's 'Talking to Strangers' podcast. Gladwell described the significant odds that life as a poet meant a form of depression or mental deformity, and has often lead to suicide. The message bearer then turned to me with his signature, unexpected and often unbearable looks of empathy, that he reserves since it is in discord with his general indifference and humor. He said that he no longer wants me to be a poet (too late, perhaps) or at least hopes I have a happier disposition. I believe I do, in general, though I'm trying not to compare. Kay says I'm a sad person, but I know it's not all that I am. (the same person also dances with abandon in the living room and enjoys a well-crafted pastry) A part of me wonders whether I feel first, or whether I feel because I write as though I do. Meaning, in short, whether I'm actually the melancholic artist or whether I pretend. I think it's a terrible thing to have impostor syndrome about.
After I thought all this, I ate a vegan dinner and went back to reading. I was pealing an inch-thick of flesh off a pommelo as a dessert, having a difficult time at it, when the author (Buddy Glass CO Salinger) reaffirmed to me the commonality of the issue. It is not surprising in context to the story, since it is about his elder brother, a poet who did commit suicide. It's funny, because now I think of it, although I do believe Buddy in his praise of his brother as a singular and remarkable poet, I am less inspired by Seymour due to his inability to branch away from the predictable end of a poet. And, who is writing the wonderful stories that have engaged me? An author who (I discovered after a brief search) died of natural causes at the age of 91.
tmp
Took a walk this afternoon, as always, and felt compelled to keep a catalog of what I found.
dogs being walked - 6
bald old men - 2
houses being remodeled - 4 (most loudly, with table saw sounds)
several birds, including phoebe, yellow finch, hawk, and the usual crow murder
I pricked my finger upon 1 leaf, and imagined I was sleeping beauty, soon to fall into a slumber. I'm not sure what type of slumber - I have been literally more sleepy lately, due to calorie deficit. Yet I did eat more/differently today. Instead of only smoothies until dinner, I've decided to follow a partial-fasting schedule, where I only eat from 12pm - 8pm. (although, I am dishonest - I just finished my oatmeal and it's 20 past 9pm) The goal of the fast was not to be thinking about the fast itself, but about God. It all to quickly reveals how human I am.
My dad approached me in concern, while I was reading 'Seymour, an Introduction.' Without explanation, he kneeled close to me and put his phone out on my desk, and began playing an excerpt from Malcom Gladwell's 'Talking to Strangers' podcast. Gladwell described the significant odds that life as a poet meant a form of depression or mental deformity, and has often lead to suicide. The message bearer then turned to me with his signature, unexpected and often unbearable looks of empathy, that he reserves since it is in discord with his general indifference and humor. He said that he no longer wants me to be a poet (too late, perhaps) or at least hopes I have a happier disposition. I believe I do, in general, though I'm trying not to compare. Kay says I'm a sad person, but I know it's not all that I am. (the same person also dances with abandon in the living room and enjoys a well-crafted pastry) A part of me wonders whether I feel first, or whether I feel because I write as though I do. Meaning, in short, whether I'm actually the melancholic artist or whether I pretend. I think it's a terrible thing to have impostor syndrome about.
After I thought all this, I ate a vegan dinner and went back to reading. I was pealing an inch-thick of flesh off a pommelo as a dessert, having a difficult time at it, when the author (Buddy Glass CO Salinger) reaffirmed to me the commonality of the issue. It is not surprising in context to the story, since it is about his elder brother, a poet who did commit suicide. It's funny, because now I think of it, although I do believe Buddy in his praise of his brother as a singular and remarkable poet, I am less inspired by Seymour due to his inability to branch away from the predictable end of a poet. And, who is writing the wonderful stories that have engaged me? An author who (I discovered after a brief search) died of natural causes at the age of 91.
tmp
more on seymour
1/14
Realized another poetic parallel from last week. Or, an unfortunate coordination I guess.
When I got my pet snake, I was messaging this guy on bumble named Benjo. We'd been talking about J.D. Salinger recently, and he said he loved 'Catcher in the Rye'. I was very exciting to be talking with someone who was enthusiastic about my interests (especially so, since ex never really was). Anyway, he asked what I'd name him and I said 'Seymour.' A name I'd chosen from 'Franny & Zooey', and 'A Perfect Day for Bananafish', both by Salinger. (who by the was, happens to be reappearing in my life frequently now. Perhaps it's the white honda effect.) He said he loved the name, personally.
In a few days, I asked Benjo if he'd like to go for a coffee or something that weekend or the upcoming week. He said he'd be away the weekend, but would let me know about during the week. We chatted for perhaps a day more, when he ceased to respond, and never let me know.
A few days later, I took Seymour out to try to feed him and there was something terribly wrong with him. He kept twisting around, and stopped sticking out his tongue. I immediately knew he didn't have long, and began to cry. After collecting myself, I solemnly took him to PetSmart so they could send him to the vet. I was not very hopeful, but gave them my contact so they could tell me if he improved. The next afternoon, they did call me, but to say he'd passed before they could help him.
Short-lived, false starts to begin the year. Strange, I felt so happy the first day, like everything was moving several times faster than usual, then suddenly the scene changed, and it's at a normal pace, but seems to drag in comparison.
I am adjusted now though, for the most part. I have strong pangs of loneliness, but try to remember all the people I still have in my life, and how grateful I am for them. (things I miss: someone to talk to about my darkest secrets, someone to hold and kiss, someone to eat at restaurants with, someone to sing songs about, someone to share books with. things I don't miss: driving and feeling utterly depressed, feeling terribly uncertain constantly, feeling alone in my sea of emotions, feeling disconnected from everyone, feeling guilty. Obviously, not all these things are gone/unable to come back.)
Right now I am struggling with energy deficiency from my fast. It's making me dizzy, tired, and sometimes sad. I calculated that I shouldn't loose to much weight from this, and I plan on working at regaining afterwards. Unless, it does become an actual health problem. Asking the Lord to guide me with that. Perhaps it's best if I only skip breakfast, and eat like usual - yet, I do know this is supposed to be a challenge. My dad approached with a look of serious worry, and told me he'd rather I not do it, since I'm already thin. It's difficult for me to ignore people's advice, and has lead me to debating what's best.
tmp
Realized another poetic parallel from last week. Or, an unfortunate coordination I guess.
When I got my pet snake, I was messaging this guy on bumble named Benjo. We'd been talking about J.D. Salinger recently, and he said he loved 'Catcher in the Rye'. I was very exciting to be talking with someone who was enthusiastic about my interests (especially so, since ex never really was). Anyway, he asked what I'd name him and I said 'Seymour.' A name I'd chosen from 'Franny & Zooey', and 'A Perfect Day for Bananafish', both by Salinger. (who by the was, happens to be reappearing in my life frequently now. Perhaps it's the white honda effect.) He said he loved the name, personally.
In a few days, I asked Benjo if he'd like to go for a coffee or something that weekend or the upcoming week. He said he'd be away the weekend, but would let me know about during the week. We chatted for perhaps a day more, when he ceased to respond, and never let me know.
A few days later, I took Seymour out to try to feed him and there was something terribly wrong with him. He kept twisting around, and stopped sticking out his tongue. I immediately knew he didn't have long, and began to cry. After collecting myself, I solemnly took him to PetSmart so they could send him to the vet. I was not very hopeful, but gave them my contact so they could tell me if he improved. The next afternoon, they did call me, but to say he'd passed before they could help him.
Short-lived, false starts to begin the year. Strange, I felt so happy the first day, like everything was moving several times faster than usual, then suddenly the scene changed, and it's at a normal pace, but seems to drag in comparison.
I am adjusted now though, for the most part. I have strong pangs of loneliness, but try to remember all the people I still have in my life, and how grateful I am for them. (things I miss: someone to talk to about my darkest secrets, someone to hold and kiss, someone to eat at restaurants with, someone to sing songs about, someone to share books with. things I don't miss: driving and feeling utterly depressed, feeling terribly uncertain constantly, feeling alone in my sea of emotions, feeling disconnected from everyone, feeling guilty. Obviously, not all these things are gone/unable to come back.)
Right now I am struggling with energy deficiency from my fast. It's making me dizzy, tired, and sometimes sad. I calculated that I shouldn't loose to much weight from this, and I plan on working at regaining afterwards. Unless, it does become an actual health problem. Asking the Lord to guide me with that. Perhaps it's best if I only skip breakfast, and eat like usual - yet, I do know this is supposed to be a challenge. My dad approached with a look of serious worry, and told me he'd rather I not do it, since I'm already thin. It's difficult for me to ignore people's advice, and has lead me to debating what's best.
tmp
reclarifying, new habits
1/12
It is Sunday, and today's service (and set mood for the remainder of my day) was on testing, along with motives behind our goals. God spoke strongly to me about reclarifying my motives behind serving, and in all my work. During the closing song, I began to cry more fully (I'd started a bit earlier, but stopped) when I was realizing how this whole terribly lonesome and confusing period of my life is just a test. And, how it's been silly of me to belittle God's abilities. I might have been unnaturally emotional, but many things resonated deeply with my current concerns. Afterwards, I spoke to Pastor Caleb about being involved in youth ministry. He told me he didn't want me to be a small group leader until my future with grad school was decided, which I first thought was misguided, since school starts several months from now (and the whole idea still feels very distant from now). But it made sense - it would be discouraging, or at least difficult, for the kids to become attached to someone who suddenly leaves across the country before a year is through. So I asked if there were other ways I could help, and he said with audio. I'd love to learn more about audio & tech, with my increasing curiosity about music creation, so I easily said yes. Sometime this week, I'd learn from the lady who runs sound and display, then I could work on Tuesday (and maybe Wednesday too) nights. He also told me that most of the leaders attend the 6pm service, to which I again said I'd join, since I could being my sister as well.
As I was driving home, I listened to Sufjan Stevens (seven swans) and cried joyfully. I felt like I was having an out-of-body moment, and witnessing a hopeful thread of God's presence. I know my problems are just what I asked for, and ultimately refining me for something.
Tomorrow, I am planning on starting a 21-day fast along with my church. I decided I'd still eat something, as I'd probably get sick (or at least, my parents would be for me) if I got any thinner. And I'd go without Netflix/TV/Youtube. Instead of breakfast, I will have tea and read the Bible and pray. I used to do daily devotional before working so early, so I think this would be a good way to bring back my habit. Perhaps I'll stop having breakfast entirely - I could do this only if I can enjoy breakfast foods at some point, as they are my favorite.
It is Sunday, and today's service (and set mood for the remainder of my day) was on testing, along with motives behind our goals. God spoke strongly to me about reclarifying my motives behind serving, and in all my work. During the closing song, I began to cry more fully (I'd started a bit earlier, but stopped) when I was realizing how this whole terribly lonesome and confusing period of my life is just a test. And, how it's been silly of me to belittle God's abilities. I might have been unnaturally emotional, but many things resonated deeply with my current concerns. Afterwards, I spoke to Pastor Caleb about being involved in youth ministry. He told me he didn't want me to be a small group leader until my future with grad school was decided, which I first thought was misguided, since school starts several months from now (and the whole idea still feels very distant from now). But it made sense - it would be discouraging, or at least difficult, for the kids to become attached to someone who suddenly leaves across the country before a year is through. So I asked if there were other ways I could help, and he said with audio. I'd love to learn more about audio & tech, with my increasing curiosity about music creation, so I easily said yes. Sometime this week, I'd learn from the lady who runs sound and display, then I could work on Tuesday (and maybe Wednesday too) nights. He also told me that most of the leaders attend the 6pm service, to which I again said I'd join, since I could being my sister as well.
As I was driving home, I listened to Sufjan Stevens (seven swans) and cried joyfully. I felt like I was having an out-of-body moment, and witnessing a hopeful thread of God's presence. I know my problems are just what I asked for, and ultimately refining me for something.
Tomorrow, I am planning on starting a 21-day fast along with my church. I decided I'd still eat something, as I'd probably get sick (or at least, my parents would be for me) if I got any thinner. And I'd go without Netflix/TV/Youtube. Instead of breakfast, I will have tea and read the Bible and pray. I used to do daily devotional before working so early, so I think this would be a good way to bring back my habit. Perhaps I'll stop having breakfast entirely - I could do this only if I can enjoy breakfast foods at some point, as they are my favorite.
bugs, nerves, wind-up bird
1/10/20
On Wednesday (1/18) my mom found 2 bugs in her hair so we had to gather up the towels and wash them and hop in the car to get our heads checked for lice. She ended up being the only one who had them, and not too many. She sarcastically joked that it we sure hug each other often.
That night, I went to the high school church event. Luke was sick so it was just me. I felt incredibly anxious, and awkwardly sat in the back for nearly the whole time. I did end up talking a bit to Leo, then met this girl named -- , which was nice. Also, I ate a couple pancakes. Afterwards, we had a leader meeting - which was occupied mostly by a battle over where Micah (the youngest leader) was going to sit. They were really energetic and clearly well bonded which intimidates me, but also excites me. During prayer I was open about how nervous I was feeling which helped. They hung around then decided to go out for dinner at Lazy Dog, and I joined them just so I could talk more. I didn't want any heavy food so I ordered tea an ate a few fries someone didn't want. Across from me was Sean and to my right was Micah. Sean is super friendly and spoke to me most of the time; Micah is chill and very quiet. Connecting with people in smaller setting is always easier for me.
On Thursday, I hadn't originally planned to do much, but Dad asked if I could visit Yuri to pick up some homework Lydia needed, so I easily agreed. I was thinking of seeing her soon anyways to ask about teaching her photoshop.
We talked all about my family's dynamic and she advised how to speak with Lydia to help her progress. (leaving the rest of this section out for my sister's sake)
I was working that night at my desk, and mom came through the front door asking me whether a book outside was left for a friend. It was Wind-Up Bird. I briefly explained that I'd lent it to ex, and it seems he'd finished it. Putting it atop my sketchbook pile, I tried to look passive. At some point I asked when she'd first noticed the book, to which she wasn't sure, but thought probably just that evening. I peered through the pages for any signs or messages. Near the last page, I found a slip of paper I'd left a book list on, with his notes on the back side, and the receipt from our first date. The notes were things that I recalled reading in his journal. On the back of the receipt was written poorly in pencil:
Tuesday, Jan 7 2020 1:10am
Just finished the book, can't say I feel like I understand it.
Anyways, hope all is well.
Which meant to me - either he really did finish the book on Tues at 1:10am, or he had dropped it off on my porch at 1:10am. Either way, I find it poetic and odd that on that night, I'd decided to stay up late into the night. I could've been on the couch when he was several feet from my door. And I do remember hearing something around that time. Or, if it really had first appeared yesterday evening before I'd arrive home, around 5pm, then I was in Irvine while he was at my door. It's funny, you see. Both possibilities are strange.
tmp
On Wednesday (1/18) my mom found 2 bugs in her hair so we had to gather up the towels and wash them and hop in the car to get our heads checked for lice. She ended up being the only one who had them, and not too many. She sarcastically joked that it we sure hug each other often.
That night, I went to the high school church event. Luke was sick so it was just me. I felt incredibly anxious, and awkwardly sat in the back for nearly the whole time. I did end up talking a bit to Leo, then met this girl named -- , which was nice. Also, I ate a couple pancakes. Afterwards, we had a leader meeting - which was occupied mostly by a battle over where Micah (the youngest leader) was going to sit. They were really energetic and clearly well bonded which intimidates me, but also excites me. During prayer I was open about how nervous I was feeling which helped. They hung around then decided to go out for dinner at Lazy Dog, and I joined them just so I could talk more. I didn't want any heavy food so I ordered tea an ate a few fries someone didn't want. Across from me was Sean and to my right was Micah. Sean is super friendly and spoke to me most of the time; Micah is chill and very quiet. Connecting with people in smaller setting is always easier for me.
On Thursday, I hadn't originally planned to do much, but Dad asked if I could visit Yuri to pick up some homework Lydia needed, so I easily agreed. I was thinking of seeing her soon anyways to ask about teaching her photoshop.
We talked all about my family's dynamic and she advised how to speak with Lydia to help her progress. (leaving the rest of this section out for my sister's sake)
I was working that night at my desk, and mom came through the front door asking me whether a book outside was left for a friend. It was Wind-Up Bird. I briefly explained that I'd lent it to ex, and it seems he'd finished it. Putting it atop my sketchbook pile, I tried to look passive. At some point I asked when she'd first noticed the book, to which she wasn't sure, but thought probably just that evening. I peered through the pages for any signs or messages. Near the last page, I found a slip of paper I'd left a book list on, with his notes on the back side, and the receipt from our first date. The notes were things that I recalled reading in his journal. On the back of the receipt was written poorly in pencil:
Tuesday, Jan 7 2020 1:10am
Just finished the book, can't say I feel like I understand it.
Anyways, hope all is well.
Which meant to me - either he really did finish the book on Tues at 1:10am, or he had dropped it off on my porch at 1:10am. Either way, I find it poetic and odd that on that night, I'd decided to stay up late into the night. I could've been on the couch when he was several feet from my door. And I do remember hearing something around that time. Or, if it really had first appeared yesterday evening before I'd arrive home, around 5pm, then I was in Irvine while he was at my door. It's funny, you see. Both possibilities are strange.
tmp
a carefully logged day/night
1/7/20
Currently not in the most positive mood to begin my first journal of the year. Yet I want to list out what I've done today, and maybe I'll feel more grateful.
9am - woke up, made breakfast
10am - stayed on phone, used bumble
11am - graded latin quizzes
12:30pm - checked on Seymour (my pet snake), wouldn't eat and was acting weird. Texted Betsy and concluded that he's sick.
1pm - had lunch
2pm - took Seymour to PetSmart. They had to return him so he could go to the vet.
3pm - I laid on my bed and video chatted Kay for a bit. She was cooking with Hannah and Steph, and enjoying Hannah's cat Baby. Kay seems to be doing well - she also broke up recently but she wasn't too attached and is healthy-minded when it comes to relationships. I told her about the snake and a recent relapse of feelings for ex I'd been having. She restated to me that it seemed like relapse and I needed more time. It's been 3.5 weeks.
4:30pm - got up to take a walk, although I was feeling quite depressed. I was anxious to go outside before dark.
The clouds were streaks of pink that gradually became more saturated as I walked. I saw 3 people walking their dogs. The moon is not quite full but still bright. As it became dusk, I heard a razor saw sound and imagined the sun was cutting into the horizon.
5pm - I arrived home. Dad was out but Luke was in the kitchen. He was making hot chocolate, and I made a cup of coffee and ate half an apple. I think I went on my phone for a bit. Then I prepared falafel mix for dinner.
5:30pm - texted Karen and drew on my journal cover while waiting for the mix to soak. Karen told me her mom suggested setting me up with her brother, who is about to be 22 and graduating this June. Despite how it may have been awkward, I asked what his strengths and weaknesses are. She gave a full description. Honestly, he kind of sounds like a mixture of Karen's and my personality, plus musical talent. He sounds nice I guess, and it would be interesting (or, a disaster) to date a close friend's brother, but he's currently in -- so I'd have to wait till June or whenever he visits. She asked him about it and he said 'No long distance, thanks.'
6:30pm - fried the falafel and steamed broccoli and made a salad. We didn't have any pita bread so we ate it salad-style. Just Lydia and I - mom and dad went out for dinner and Luke wasn't hungry.
Spent a lot of time on my phone wondering whether to make dessert. I got lost on pinterest, but eventually decided to make a chocolate mug cake and maybe banana nice cream later. At first I was considering making macarons, but I forgot you have to 'age' the egg whites, and I wasn't feeling up to doing much fancy stuff.
8:30pm - took a shower. A bunch of my hair kept getting in my hands. I stuck it in a wad on the wall.
After that entry, I thought it was enough. But I will continue, in parallel to the book I just finished, 'After Dark', by Murakami.
9pm - wrote in my journal all information previous.
10pm - went to the kitchen to make a chocolate mug cake. It was a lower calorie one; the ingredients were as follows: 1 Tbl flour, 3 Tbl cocoa powder, 1 tsp brown sugar, pinch salt, 1/8 tsp baking soda, 1/2 tsp vanilla, 1 Tbl mashed banana, 1 tsp melted butter, 1 egg white, and 3 Tbl soy milk. I mixed and cooked it in a clear glass mug. It turned out quite bitter and eggy, but I sprinkled some chocolate chips and added some whipped cream, and enjoyed it very much. I ate it while reading 'After Dark.'
11pm - I returned to the kitchen to cut an apple and toast the remainder of a cinnamon bagel. Then I continued reading.
12:30pm - I finished the book but wanted to stay up to watch a film. I had it in my mind that I'd stay up til 3am ( a half-attempt at one of my to-do list items, staying up all night, plus inspiration from Mari) I chose a thriller called "The Talented Mr. Ripley", since I didn't want something that would put me to sleep.
1am - I wandered back to the fridge to fix open face ham-lettuce-mayo sandwiches, with a glass of soy milk. I felt like my grandma or a movie character from the 50's, and delicately ate the sandwiches while watching Matt Damon and Gwenyth Paltrow.
2am - Matt Damon bloodily killed Dickie. I covered my face and took off my headphones as he bashed his face with an oar, in a little boat off the coast of Italy. I decided I didn't really want to watch how Tom would take over Dickie's life with his uncanny imitation skills. The last scene of his profusely bleeding face had curbed my desire to watch something exciting. But I couldn't imagine sleeping anymore, so I opened Youtube and began a train of 'Psych2Go' videos about 'signs you weren't in love', 'habits making you unhappy', 'types of love', 'attractive habite', and more that I impulsively clicked on.
3:30am - for a change of scene, I watched a buzzfeed video with Rie, with a CSH track in the background. Then for my final video I chose a 'Pastry Chef makes', on poptarts. I've never super like poptarts, besides the brown sugar one when I was little, but Claire's gourmet version made me crave it. Perhaps I'll try to make them myself.
4am - I stared at the computer screen for a bit, then I heard footsteps, and realized whoever's up will see the lamp still on. And come in and ask why I'm still awake. My dad came in and did pretty much that. But I explained I couldn't sleep, and he just laid down on the couch and chatted with me for a little while. I told him about Tom Ripley, and he said he woke up really sweaty, so he came out to the living room to cool down. He also told me about his dream, then brought up times when he lived in Santa Monica. I didn't feel that sleepy, but I didn't have much to say, so I said goodnight and went to bed. I took my journal with me. While there was not much to do, I felt like I'd made it this far. Perhaps I could still make it all night. Silly reason to stay up though.
5am - It is nearing this time currently. Perhaps I'll write a poem, or actually try sleeping. Normally, I have an easy time at it; I think I'm almost actively fighting against my healthy habits. What am I trying to prove? Maybe this is another cigarette action. I'll have to completely recalibrate myself soon though, with latin teaching coming up on Monday. Another final thought - I believe it is related to 'against typical judgement/messy fun' things that I miss from ex. And proving that I can do them alone too. I feel more strong in personality when I do these things.
tmp
Currently not in the most positive mood to begin my first journal of the year. Yet I want to list out what I've done today, and maybe I'll feel more grateful.
9am - woke up, made breakfast
10am - stayed on phone, used bumble
11am - graded latin quizzes
12:30pm - checked on Seymour (my pet snake), wouldn't eat and was acting weird. Texted Betsy and concluded that he's sick.
1pm - had lunch
2pm - took Seymour to PetSmart. They had to return him so he could go to the vet.
3pm - I laid on my bed and video chatted Kay for a bit. She was cooking with Hannah and Steph, and enjoying Hannah's cat Baby. Kay seems to be doing well - she also broke up recently but she wasn't too attached and is healthy-minded when it comes to relationships. I told her about the snake and a recent relapse of feelings for ex I'd been having. She restated to me that it seemed like relapse and I needed more time. It's been 3.5 weeks.
4:30pm - got up to take a walk, although I was feeling quite depressed. I was anxious to go outside before dark.
The clouds were streaks of pink that gradually became more saturated as I walked. I saw 3 people walking their dogs. The moon is not quite full but still bright. As it became dusk, I heard a razor saw sound and imagined the sun was cutting into the horizon.
5pm - I arrived home. Dad was out but Luke was in the kitchen. He was making hot chocolate, and I made a cup of coffee and ate half an apple. I think I went on my phone for a bit. Then I prepared falafel mix for dinner.
5:30pm - texted Karen and drew on my journal cover while waiting for the mix to soak. Karen told me her mom suggested setting me up with her brother, who is about to be 22 and graduating this June. Despite how it may have been awkward, I asked what his strengths and weaknesses are. She gave a full description. Honestly, he kind of sounds like a mixture of Karen's and my personality, plus musical talent. He sounds nice I guess, and it would be interesting (or, a disaster) to date a close friend's brother, but he's currently in -- so I'd have to wait till June or whenever he visits. She asked him about it and he said 'No long distance, thanks.'
6:30pm - fried the falafel and steamed broccoli and made a salad. We didn't have any pita bread so we ate it salad-style. Just Lydia and I - mom and dad went out for dinner and Luke wasn't hungry.
Spent a lot of time on my phone wondering whether to make dessert. I got lost on pinterest, but eventually decided to make a chocolate mug cake and maybe banana nice cream later. At first I was considering making macarons, but I forgot you have to 'age' the egg whites, and I wasn't feeling up to doing much fancy stuff.
8:30pm - took a shower. A bunch of my hair kept getting in my hands. I stuck it in a wad on the wall.
After that entry, I thought it was enough. But I will continue, in parallel to the book I just finished, 'After Dark', by Murakami.
9pm - wrote in my journal all information previous.
10pm - went to the kitchen to make a chocolate mug cake. It was a lower calorie one; the ingredients were as follows: 1 Tbl flour, 3 Tbl cocoa powder, 1 tsp brown sugar, pinch salt, 1/8 tsp baking soda, 1/2 tsp vanilla, 1 Tbl mashed banana, 1 tsp melted butter, 1 egg white, and 3 Tbl soy milk. I mixed and cooked it in a clear glass mug. It turned out quite bitter and eggy, but I sprinkled some chocolate chips and added some whipped cream, and enjoyed it very much. I ate it while reading 'After Dark.'
11pm - I returned to the kitchen to cut an apple and toast the remainder of a cinnamon bagel. Then I continued reading.
12:30pm - I finished the book but wanted to stay up to watch a film. I had it in my mind that I'd stay up til 3am ( a half-attempt at one of my to-do list items, staying up all night, plus inspiration from Mari) I chose a thriller called "The Talented Mr. Ripley", since I didn't want something that would put me to sleep.
1am - I wandered back to the fridge to fix open face ham-lettuce-mayo sandwiches, with a glass of soy milk. I felt like my grandma or a movie character from the 50's, and delicately ate the sandwiches while watching Matt Damon and Gwenyth Paltrow.
2am - Matt Damon bloodily killed Dickie. I covered my face and took off my headphones as he bashed his face with an oar, in a little boat off the coast of Italy. I decided I didn't really want to watch how Tom would take over Dickie's life with his uncanny imitation skills. The last scene of his profusely bleeding face had curbed my desire to watch something exciting. But I couldn't imagine sleeping anymore, so I opened Youtube and began a train of 'Psych2Go' videos about 'signs you weren't in love', 'habits making you unhappy', 'types of love', 'attractive habite', and more that I impulsively clicked on.
3:30am - for a change of scene, I watched a buzzfeed video with Rie, with a CSH track in the background. Then for my final video I chose a 'Pastry Chef makes', on poptarts. I've never super like poptarts, besides the brown sugar one when I was little, but Claire's gourmet version made me crave it. Perhaps I'll try to make them myself.
4am - I stared at the computer screen for a bit, then I heard footsteps, and realized whoever's up will see the lamp still on. And come in and ask why I'm still awake. My dad came in and did pretty much that. But I explained I couldn't sleep, and he just laid down on the couch and chatted with me for a little while. I told him about Tom Ripley, and he said he woke up really sweaty, so he came out to the living room to cool down. He also told me about his dream, then brought up times when he lived in Santa Monica. I didn't feel that sleepy, but I didn't have much to say, so I said goodnight and went to bed. I took my journal with me. While there was not much to do, I felt like I'd made it this far. Perhaps I could still make it all night. Silly reason to stay up though.
5am - It is nearing this time currently. Perhaps I'll write a poem, or actually try sleeping. Normally, I have an easy time at it; I think I'm almost actively fighting against my healthy habits. What am I trying to prove? Maybe this is another cigarette action. I'll have to completely recalibrate myself soon though, with latin teaching coming up on Monday. Another final thought - I believe it is related to 'against typical judgement/messy fun' things that I miss from ex. And proving that I can do them alone too. I feel more strong in personality when I do these things.
tmp
from graphite to infinite
I've finally decided to live as the open online book. After all, my writings seem to mostly be about me, so to help them be not such a selfish endeavor, I am giving them up to my readers.
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These are my dear letters to anyone who wants a peek into my life and thoughts, and I have no idea how interesting they will be to you. Maybe it's so dull, that as soon as you read the first sentence, it seems natural to check the time, open another tab, and finish the other thing you were thinking of doing. I don't mind.
Setting the rules: I will occasionally change names, for the sake of privacy. Certain roles will be obvious. I may exclude certain scenes or obscure events for the same reason. This journal blog is primarily meant for my thinking and feeling process.
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