Rorschach Ink

77

(First you paint your heart, and then you paint your soul)

June 2015

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Displacement

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we drive home
bound with the windows
down carrying bags of tea that smell like

Christmas, flecked with
ginger, decked in lights
pass by billboards for

fidget spinners &
a bridge that reminds me of beyond two
souls & a school with the sign that reads “meet the Teachers night”

lo que sera, sera means what will be
will be, fate that’s putty in the
hands of what we can’t see

mises à jour

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….or ‘life updates’ in French.

Well, WordPress, it is Halloween, which falls awkwardly on a Tuesday this year. But never fear! Virtually everybody has decided the entire month is a cause of celebration. In fact, every day of the week has been allocated to celebrating Halloween and flooding everybody’s Instagram feeds with non-stop costumes! I, for one, am glad that Halloween’s nearly over, except that there won’t be as much free candy. I’ve been scouring office entrances for free chocolates and gummies. Also, I like November, even if it is a month that tends to fade in my memory.

Spent the weekend seeing friends, grabbing dinner, watching plays, catching up. Binged Stranger Things 2 on Sunday night–two episodes spiraled into five. We ordered pizza from the place across the street. Didn’t cook this time, but maybe next time–maybe next week. One of my favorite things to do during down-time is, ironically, watch TV with friends. It’s not the most active, we’re not talking much, but there’s just something about being mutually entertained with people you really like and feeling contented with their company, the show, the food, etc. Plus it’s just… low-key. I’m searching for a better word, but that encapsulates it.

I’ve also been feeling nostalgic and posting on my scrapbook Instagram account. Even though it’s public, it’s a way of talking to myself, of reminding myself to be grateful and to actively reflect on happy moments. Even though memory’s retrospective, we don’t always realize how much of the now seeps into how we regard the past. When we’re unhappy, we’re more likely to recall unhappier moments and vice versa. Recognizing that it’s not just about the ratio of good to bad in life, but the way you frame it, gives you a sense of… control, almost? over how you experience happiness.  I think Nobel prize winner Kahnenman, author of Thinking Fast and Slow, wrote something about this– the two types of happiness. There’s present happiness, and overall life happiness (More on that here), of being happy this very moment and being happy about your life. Actively recalling the positive, even if these happy moments have passed, makes me feel happier now.

Falling Slowly

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Weather’s been doing its usual tango-merengue between hot and cold.

I tell myself that time goes by faster around this time of year, end of October. November zips by, solid block of cold, fades around the middle. December’s usually quick, submerged in work, two weeks of wrapping things up in cold tired bows of maybe-nostalgia.

Then the feeling of surprised triumph that things are done, that it’s been yet another half of a half (of a half of half) that’s passed.

Sleeplessness

harukami play

From last night’s play. Turns out it wasn’t just based on Haruki Murakami (one of my favorite authors who writes trippy dreamy stories that almost always feature some character dissociating from herself) but Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina as well. Coincidentally, I invited the friend who I’d befriended in a class on Anna Karenina exactly three years ago. Synchronicity, anyone?

The play itself was good. Strange, a little creepy, but intentionally so. Murakami’s work always leave me feeling weird, like I’m straddling some in-between of reality and a bad dream.

Date Night

Anniversary. We’d gone out to a comedy show, watched two groups improv-battle it out over dinner and drinks. I remember the guac–partitioned from the salsa, of course– cheesy enchiladas, peering at his eyes, room erupting with peals of laughter, looking towards the stage to see funny girl #2 in pink toppling backwards. I felt buttery, warm, happy. The show was pretty good–the first group was a little awkward; the second group, phenomenal. Things might be funnier when you’re tipsy, but the second group was funny. A duo of pros oozing comic chemistry on-stage. Hilariousness in their own right.