mindful mondays, thirty-one

October 28, 2013


distillation of my october days.
crisp morning shadows / monochrome silhouette / sundown / street art & graffiti

I hold my breath and I cross the road carefully. his words keep ringing in my head, but I cannot hear the voice. just a screenshot of my phone. it is ridiculous, the communication habits of today’s society. yet I am perfectly comfortable with them. the past week has been uneventful. except for the little ones’ seventh and second birthday. we showed up together with some hello kitty paraphernalia. their happiness made it worth. the littlest one speaks now and calls for papa all the time, but is perfectly content not being in his arms at the same time. she’s losing her baby fat and walks faster than she has before. no more insecure stumbling around. she brushes her own dress neat when it’s out of place. a little lady. watching her made my heart smile. it was such an ordinary day, yet it wasn’t. we made a mistake later, when we crossed to harbor to join the masses, but I realized it too late. I sat through the ordeal and hoped it would finish soon. we hugged in consolation on the way back home; the worst part about misunderstanding, is that in your own reflection later you cannot figure out how you arrived at that point in the first place. because it stops making sense. it’s not right, but it’s okay.

I’m counting my days off and trying to make the most of it. I am still not entirely aware of the long to-do list in preparation, but it will come soon and then it’ll hit me like a ton of bricks. I am ready. mornings are the same. so are the afternoons and evenings. but I am terrified, because at this point, I still don’t realize how much I could miss everything. I am terrified of having regrets later. it’s a phantom feeling, because I cannot think of a single thing that would make me change my mind. confusion burns and turns worse, only because I don’t have any answers. this morning I realized that a moleskine notebook, that I bought in september last year in order to write my heart out, has only been filled in the first twenty pages or less. a couple of a years ago, I was capable of finishing the whole notebook in three months. everything is less now. I used to fill four pages a day with words, now I struggle with four handwritten lines. I used to go to starbucks twice a day, now it’s twice a month. two things that I thought would never change.

everything changes with time.

mindful mondays, thirty

October 21, 2013


my entire world is a little bit sideways at the moment.

receiving a certain, particular text (after I have fully given up on ever receiving an answer), at three o’clock in the morning ensured two things; sleepless rest of the night and an absolutely horrendous monday. today has not been a good day. friday afternoon and the second escape to lantau island and our favorite spot in cheung sha beach seems like a dream. almost like it never happened. calmness and peace was replaced with chaos and stress of the daily life. I am exhausted. oblivion of late nights does not help anymore and perhaps it never did. I was just never able to completely see that; or see anything, for that matter, in a different light. my entire world bathes in gloom. one cannot possibly expect a dose of positive energy when they have none to give. and yet here I am, standing with my palms opened, waiting.

my to do list has escalated into an insane pile of pressing matters. holiday season is nearing with such speed and certainty, and so is my departure date. I seriously doubt there will be enough time for everything. it is a little paralyzing, yet so refreshing to think that one day I will leave hong kong. often I wake up in the middle of the night startled. it’s not so much about nightmares as it as about the overwhelming feeling. I am simply feeling overwhelmed by everything. there. it wasn’t so hard to admit that. I was so concerned about keeping my steely resolve. I believe that’s what he said at some point in the past and it stayed with me. of course, I didn’t believe it back then.

I didn’t believe a lot of things back then. but now that I have gotten myself sucked into the rabbit hole of addictive pointlessness, it’s even harder to see what it was like before. it’s always there – the need to make comparisons between now and then. I am going to stop here. I could really use another drunk afternoon with the filmmaker, perhaps he could stomp some sense into me. would you please?

post scriptum; speaking of stomp, they will never cease to amaze me.