a complete confession (september 2020)

i remember the first time i put on my white coat, i had to hastily stuff my phone down the large pockets on the side because i was thrown into my student duties. however, its weight reassured me. everyone seemed to roll their eyes at me after i asked them a question and i was frequently embarrassed by the amount of things i didn’t know. i felt a lot of pressure on my chest. after taking my white coat off, i should have felt relief, but i felt dread knowing there was going to be another day, all day until 5 weeks had passed. i had passive aggressive thoughts about my supervisor and preceptor. they diminished by sunday and were followed by a general grumpiness on monday morning. i was probably the most upset that month than in my entire life. even though i felt it, i couldn’t express it. it was also annoying having to say “good morning” four to six times every morning. i started saying “hi” to cut down on the syllables and save energy over the day. i learned to pace myself. and to drink coffee.  

february

more rhetoric this month, along with some heavier moods that fluctuate with the season. are we living in the spring or winter. how do you know when to stop putting in effort. what will happen to my relationships in the future and how much decay can i endure. will i go on that walk today. how many hours have i spent in my room. should i see a doctor. how many pounds do i weigh and do i have the motivation to go check. how to prevent eye strain. 

there is no more -30 degree weather, but now the sun shines sharply in my eyes. i swear reading about Cathy's sun sensitivity in East of Eden makes me feel it too. it's also getting harder to run and to sleep in. i feel activated but drowsy all at once. napping came so easily in toronto, but in calgary i have to grind my teeth and wrench my covers over me until i can fall asleep. 

the research paper hangs like a curtain in the back of my mind. it's been 2 months, 3 presentations done. a fourth and fifth are to come, and still i do not tire. LOL i've been watching too much bridgerton. 

remember happier moments? like running the usual southern route down bathurst, always a quietly bustling street, and reaching the yellow cityplace bridge, slowing to a walk to admire the view of the railroads, then continuing onto canoe landing. i like to sit at the top of the hill and people watch at the dog park, and watch the cars leaving the gardiner. i'd run back to the bridge, and run up portland to queen st. it is so hard to run on queen st. after i run home, i'd make a smoothie or some japanese-inspired dish and eat it in my bright room, fully savoring all my possessions, sitting in their rightful place. 

in the midst of existing in this stuffy city i think my mind has regressed a bit. it's always returning to a place of apprehension. i act differently with my friends, and it's because i think i am not worthy. a toxic environment will do that to you, and i am reminded of my high school self again. 

nothing much to say right now except to see this as a learning experience. next, i will read the girl who played with fire. 

two stones do not make a boulder.

they cannot live in each other's shoes 

but in dissonance.

fighting a long-standing battle, 

resenting the passage of time 

procrastination

i finished reading this book today, as i was falling asleep. it was extremely mundane, but i liked the super random ending. 

it is home, but it is all clutter

"my parents are making us hotpot" she says. there is a twinge of jealousy even though I don't want hotpot. "i thought you were dating a girl," the other one says. 

this is the feeling of having something that nobody wants. they walk out into the night. the night is lukewarm at best. 

we live in a world full of maniacal chinese-american authors that speak in a loud monotone to other chinese-american authors. 

a vague opening sentence, sensitive descriptions of the snow, name drop someone no one's ever heard of, and imply you know a thing or two about pain, but use the image of a flower to describe it. this is the recipe for an avant-garde piece of writing. the writer is probably starved out of his mind after a long day of sitting at the computer typing dumb words on a bulletin board to 83 students. 

social media is destroying my productivity

hellopoetry words used

感谢的感觉

对世界所有暗恋的人

谢谢你悄悄得想着别人

对我的读者

感谢你阅读我的博客

我会继续写有意思的事情

a calm winter

this month was full of wistful thinking and numbness, probably. i had asked myself countless rhetorical questions, not expecting any answer back. what if i didn't study for this test, what would happen if the bridge collapsed, who lives in that building, what are the people walking past me thinking about, when is too cold for jogging outside, what kind of 30 year old do i want to be, how do i deal with my aging body in a way that is both elegant and practical, will i ever get rid of my belly and thigh fat, even if i work out really hard? my writing was "published" online via QQ archive. i attended many events, and was able to successfully transfer my placement to calgary. i am looking forward to this change of pace, i want to push myself further in a sense, even though it means spending more time at home feeling awkward with my parents. i want to be more assertive. 

thought dump

it sits there, plump and juicy and half-peeled. its insides are filled with liquid, it could burst any minute. under the bright grey daylight the skin is pockmarked like a teenager's face. not even worth the weight of two coins, i free the flesh within. drops of zest fill the air like dust. its irregular roundness is worrying. the translucent membrane skin glows like a baby's peach fuzz. i taste the crystalline drops of sunshine. happiness on earth is the first bite.