being happy and twenty-two in davis in spring feels like forever ago. never going to get over you.
who needs coherence
the scared is scared: i come back to this special short once in while, when i need a little wisdom. tonight is one of those nights / just as i was about to forget the feeling of being exhausted, of having your heart hurt from bruises, of a fully formed tear making its way down your face. we nearly made it. just shy of a winning streak / i am studying for a test tomorrow. in assessing and evaluating levels of ability, there is norm-referencing and there is criterion-referencing. the former says you’re not the best, but compared to the other 90% of the population, you’re a star. don’t fix it if it ain’t broke. but the latter dares to tell the ugly truth: that a defect is a deficit, no matter what shape it sits in / so, my darling, reflect or deflect?
vintage cheongsam patterns
tomorrow is the start of another week. i have the most ridiculously packed five days ahead but cheongsams are all i can think about, all i want to wear to work. last week i wore my first one that dips slightly below the knee and suddenly i am smitten with that perfect length, dreaming dresses up in colours and prints. i don’t know why i spent twenty years rejecting cheongsams for being uncomfortable and scratchy when they are really just sheath dresses with pencil skirts, with delicate collars that go no higher than a regular button-down. sensible but sensual — what’s not to love?
(sorry — i’ve forgotten the links to the original images. saved them a while ago from etsy/ebay sale posts.)
what keeps me going
my day job is lovely. but as a bonus, i spend a few hours sewing and drafting every week and it’s when i am happiest. and then, if i’m lucky, sam is waiting outside when i’m done, and what a feeling — to know that your heart still skips a beat.
it’s been a long time since i’ve filled up this little white box. i’ve been good. in four words: very tired, very blessed. have a happy weekend x
one teaspoon of stars
on our first proper day in the city we sat in the planetarium at the museum of natural history, staring upward at a domed imax ceiling for a show about the stars, and it was the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen. every time the sky swirled around and we danced across galaxies, i flinched from the vertigo, but also because i kept my eyes wide open to take it all in. the push and pull of magnetic waves, a star burning bright, slow and fierce, leaving a legacy of light that travels millions of miles even after it ceases to exist. did you know that by some evolutionary marvel, we each have one teaspoon’s worth of star-matter in us?
my first time in new york was selfish, all about firsts, thrills and broadway dreams coming true. it’s the kind of place that puts you on top of the world and in the centre of the universe.
this time though, i loved the city because it made me feel tiny too. you are: one light in the distance, one more set of ears for the underground platform jazz to wrap itself around, one-fiftieth the size of a tree. we are humble and small, but only because our world is so big, and so unbelievably beautiful. a tradeoff in our favour, really.
so flinch, be overwhelmed, but take your place and take it all!
a subdued statement
These are little bronze stud earrings, but I love the way they look so symmetrical and spectacular up close. Delicate and rough all at once. These are straight from the designer, Andy Lifschutz, but there’s a great behind-the-scenes story of how he made the rose-silver versions for Of A Kind, with a picture of the original crystal the pieces were cast from. Isn’t nature beautiful? Happy belated christmas, self.
psst: if you like them, i’d suggest joining the mailing list and waiting for a sale — the designer seems to have quarterly 25% discounts!
(thanks dil for getting them to me safely :)
back to basics
I’ve been trying to think of ways to tell you how I feel about this, but there’s really only one word: HAPPY, in big, shiny letters, with lots of exclamation points at the end!!! i am an excited kindergartener, rosy-cheeked and baggy-uniformed, ready to whip out my colour pencils and draw up a storm!
August Woman Dec ’12
Have you heard of August Woman magazine? It’s stylish and beautifully put-together, and I’m glad it’s here to shake up the array of local print titles.
I loved their debut issue, and was super stoked to contribute a little article to their second issue for December 2012. It’s about Gillman Barracks, a picturesque cluster of colonial military barracks-turned-commercial art galleries, and I highly recommend taking a walk around the area, whether you’re an art enthusiast or just a curious passer-by.
It’s been a while since the issue hit the newsstands, but I just wanted to say a quick thank you to the lovely people who bought a copy to celebrate my first print byline with me :)
2012
Dear 2012, you mostly made me very scared. And you were kind of a lot less charming than 2011. Is that okay to say?
When I think about you, I remember a lot of doors. They were mostly brown, like the one that separated my thesis/work supervisor’s office from the psychology department corridor, like the ones that hid job interviewers from plain sight. I’d always have to take a deep breath before going through those. There were the ballroom double doors and glass shopfronts with cameras waiting on the other side, ones I walked through in a series of small efforts to chase a big writing dream, new worlds I wanted to pour myself into. Then, of course, there were the metaphorical ones, entrances to a life after graduation. This was hard. I’d pick one way and second-guess myself a week later, pick another and then walk down it to find myself at the centre of the same maze. I still can’t say if I’ve found my way out, and I can’t be certain about what waits around the bend.
But that’s the thing about doors right? When they’re closed, they’re awful. They give you that first-date feeling, make it your job to step up and ring that doorbell, then there’s that little lurch you get in your gut as you push them open. There’s a quiver in your step, but you find a smile to wear as you walk through, and then hey presto — you’re on the other side.
So what I’m trying to say is: 2012, thank you for kicking my butt and for bringing me to 2013. You were rougher to deal with, but the reward is somehow sweeter. May the next 365 days be as challenging and beautiful.
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Happy new year, everyone! I wish you health, love and grace, enough to let the happiness come naturally.
Seek beauty. Keep going!!!
cosy, content
may your days be merry & bright
this year is much quieter compared to last, but my family is happy and healthy, sam got the long weekend off from work and we had a cosy christmas eve. i am content, and carry a song in my heart and smile on my face this week. i think this is what they mean when they say ‘let your heart be light’.
(photo of my parents in central park, my absolute favourite photo from our trip. only have 3000 more to sift through :)
