mindful mondays, twenty-seven

September 30, 2013

four things this week.

one. with mama sanja being gone and back in bosnia for a few weeks; father and I are indulging in a rather loose bachelor lifestyle. drinks and smokes on the balcony, takeout dinners and watching breaking bad back to back. that is, if I am at home at all. I seem to be unable to return any time before three am. sleep when you’re dead. okay. we take turns in going out or we go out together. but it’s always worth it.

two. speaking of three am, it is the best time to sit around star ferry, listen to music loud on speakers, enjoy the cooler weather and breeze, and laugh. we always laugh. there’s no one else around and all sounds are reflected in a beautiful echo in darkness and vastness of the space around us. we’ve been doing this quite often lately, preferring a bottle of juice or chocolate milkshake to drunkness of central area. it’s nice and quiet and simple. it’s what I need more of.

three. I have come up with a project for october. it’s a daily thing and it keeps me busy. I haven’t decided yet whether I will share it with anyone. but I like it. it makes me learn and pushes me outside of my boundaries, and it gets my creative juices flowing. something to do with the online dictionary, the word of the day and a word-count limit of five to nine hundred. you get the idea.

four. I am trying to take care of myself more. facial masks, body scrubs, morning smoothies, and longer and more frequent walks. I wish I knew how to organize my time better. I have been completely neglecting myself. recently someone I met, who is double my age, looked so beautiful and healthy and I asked him, how do you do that? your skin is incredible. and he said, it’s because I live well. it made me quiet and it made reconsider everything. I don’t want to get to my forties and fifties and look anything short of amazing at that age. honestly. it’s scarier than it seems when you really think about it.

september days

September 26, 2013


notes on the last couple of days.

allen youngblood offers the best hugs. it was so self-affirming and sincere. nothing out of the proportion or context. just a simple question: can we hug for a little bit? out of all the compliments and comments in my direction that night, it meant a whole lot more to me. it was good to see them. flynn, my teddy bear drank his usual red and cringed at the local singer’s failed rendition of whitney houston’s I will always love you. well, we all did. the guitarist was missing, but it was okay. I am hoping we’ll find each other again. that particular corner in wan chai, it never changes. it retrospect, it seems as if I’ve met every single important person in my life on that corner. all of them.

I met with s for a coffee that turned into everything, but that. a quick trip to the central library reminded me of the old days when I used to run away from school and hide in the aisles filled with nothing but books. I used to spend entire afternoons, sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading complete volumes on world history and whatever else that would feed my curiosity. quietly reciting the sylvia plath’s the bell jar, only to interrupt her with poetry of mao zedong. those afternoons there, at that time they seemed like the only way how I could remain sane and intact. I always left only after they kicked me out. which was just about around the time we were there. memories flooded me. I must have read a couple of hundred books the fall and winter of 2009. I remember the delifrance downstairs and eating my weight in almond croissants with black coffee.

all of a sudden, it was nighttime. I could feel the heat of the pavement, as I stood outside, smoking a cigarette. people passed me by, I waited for him to return. my mind wandered away, completely. I almost didn’t notice the red light at a street crossing opposite. we spent half an hour rummaging through a thrift clothes shop; I found a perfect little black dress for less than a hundred dollars. the corner of his mouth curved a little bit; more of a hint of a smile rather than an actual expression. I saw a glimpse of it in the mirror reflection as I was trying to see if the dress would fit me. he didn’t say anything, but I wondered whether he imagined me wearing it in his mind.

what’s the difference between vibe and chemistry between two people? he shows me hints and pieces of himself, each time there’s a little bit more to the story than there was before. he offers himself to me and I just take it, without giving too much in return. something holds me back every time I’d like to share something with him. what if? I never gave much thought to this before. I am not sure why start now. the night moved along. drinks were had, jokes were said, entire packs of smokes were finished. the music was loud and the people were there; moving around, pushing each other in a drunken concept of having a good time. I always look at everyone around me; not sure whether to be disgusted or amused.

at some point, we weren’t there anymore. pointless exchange of sentences that led and contributed to absolutely nothing. I took the bus back to the dark side. after three days of not speaking at all; I was relieved to see him. his face, the way he moves. something familiar, something that is entirely mine. or at least, I am blind enough to convince myself of that. where did you disappear? we both did, I just didn’t know it before that moment. the boy from the bird was hilarious as always, I was happy to see him. we left home together and it made everything okay. just as I fell asleep with the soft outline of sunrise on the horizon, I thought, absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

mindful mondays, twenty-six

September 23, 2013


the idea of a perfect office / dubrovnik / tulum, mexico / a seahorse in a jar
all sourced from pinterest

the above images pull me through the day. they pull me through the entire week. I am thinking of the caribbean, azure clear waters and warm pink sand in between my toes. hong kong beaches are not like that. over the weekend, the city was paid a visit by the most severe tropical typhoon of twenty-thirteen, which means the coastline is even less attractive now. we’ve barely felt it, those of us living among the concrete, but the outskirts of hong kong and the rest of south east asia have been damaged quite visibly. my wanting to escape and disappear from this part of the world increases with each passing day. pilot’s messages and geographical updates are definitely not contributing to my state of mind. and he’s not the only one causing (not unwanted) disturbance. I repeatedly return to my own writings to him; I could easily plead a case of temporary insanity, should anyone be willing to actually believe it. my days are swallowed by furious monotony and I am losing myself completely. any distraction, even just a hint of an adventure; I leap like a frog. it’s a funny picture, isn’t it? but it is costing me a lot.

I’m writing personal essays, resumes and emails, instead of poetry and short stories inspired by nocturnal outings with the filmmaker. I have officially reached the age when I need to start sucking up to people and their expectations, instead of following my own intuition. but, somehow, I am okay with that. for now. I am finding myself avoiding most people that were relevant to me, oh I swear, just five minutes ago. I am not sure what happened. I like the feeling of pushing the red decline button and silencing the phone to voicemail. I am busy now. filmmaker reminded me of some my old writings from my european trip two years ago; revisiting these emails, I cannot help but cringe. emails with subjects like and so the eastern european flow of shit continues were a regular thing. I am glad you reminded me of this. definitely good times.

and mondays will always be mondays.