everything happened so fast. i regretted smiling into the kiss. i didn’t want him to pull away but i was getting so weak in the knees i was scared that i would topple off and become a heap of mess on his feet.
in Behavioural Neuroscience i learned that the reward system relies on dopamine. it involves prediction errors, which is a term given to the difference between the actual price of a circumstance and your expectations. when the prediction error is greatly positive (i.e. when the actual price of circumstance is so much better than what you’ve expected), the brain will issue the release of dopamine transmitters and there will be a big spike in the dopaminergic system.
maybe that is the case with all drug addicts.
the second those words that i string so carelessly left my mouth, i immediately felt a wash of lukewarm. you know, that feeling like someone peed on you. and i feel like inhaling the air that i puffed out with it. i would swallow all my words back if i can.
it was 430 in the morning and the snow was falling slowly with the breeze in big snowflakes. the kiss itself wasn’t explosive or anything. it was nice and sweet, definitely what a first kiss should be. it’s honestly something that i’ve written about in one of my trashy (will-never-be-published) novels, but i realized last night that i probably never really knew how it felt until then.
and now i’m left in the most dangerous state of thinking back to the moment, recalling it, fragmenting it, slowly losing it in the process of recall until one day all i can see is the ghost of that memory. but it’s honestly very scary how something so gentle could claw itself so hard into the depths of my hippocampus.
what the fuck is with the guy, and why has he not packed his damn bags and leave?
or even better,
what the fuck is with me, and why am i not enforcing rent fees? because my cerebral space is not fucking free, eh? it’s not.
in the early mornings today after i woke up (grudgingly) from that rather pleasant dream (again, i have to grudgingly admit) i read some sort of a quote collection of Neruda’s. in it, one of them sounds like this: “I searched, but no one else had your rhythms, your light, the shady day you brought from the forest; Nobody had your tiny ears.” and i’m pretty sure Pablo meant to direct that rather feminine gesture to one of his lady friends that held a particularly dear place in his heart, but it reminded me of him. because Winston had such tiny ears, that it was very disproportionate to his big head. but i liked it, and his dinosaur-esque features… i liked that too. he just didn’t like me.
Lord i just need to move on. please help me move on, it’s been too long.
i am back!
but i’m not here to fill in on the shit that you’ve been missing because that would take me ages but i’m here as usual getting inspired by a song, and having to write about it.
don’t you sometimes feel that way? when a random song pops up in your playlist and you suddenly feel like that is your life’s soundtrack, for that particular day, or that week, or simply your youth. it can be the lyrics, it can be the arrangements, but this one song, it sounds like my dreams.
here i am sitting preparing for my presentations and an exam that i have this week, and i’m thinking, i am destined to do something so much more. i am worth so much more than my grades. i find myself yet again running away with my imaginations.
and i’ve decided.
i’m going to write a book.
just a short post on a Friday night.
it’s a day after American thanksgiving, and i am way beyond stressed. after not going home for two days, and constantly being in the library, i have developed a fatigue like i have never encountered before. i admire people who have the motivation and the strength to pull through these exhaustion.
i guess i was just too tired, and too scared, and too nervous that things will not go my way.
i think i’m just too greedy, wanting everything all at once while simultaneously not getting them.
i know i’m not alone, and that there are other people also feeling what i’m feeling right now, but at the very least i hope my future children will not go through what i’m going through. i hope they do not have that big of an ambition, just enough to sustain them through life and do what makes them happy, i hope they will never have to suffer from the panic attacks that i can feel are coming at me in waves at this very moment.
it’s a horrible feeling.
when he walked away she could hear faint music hanging on her earlobes
he brought along with him waist deep clumsy arpeggios.
now it’s quiet, and it’s daunting
silence has always been something that is open to interpretation, and that’s scary
she stood in the intersection waiting for him to walk back to her and say that he’s sorry
he didn’t even look back.
she is a child that paints with her toes and writes with her elbows.
very much she is a quiet girl lingering in the shadows
uncaring of both attention or dismissal.
her words can shelter you from the cold winter sun and her paintings cry-
her paintings cry in watercolour that spills over the canvas and easel, absorbed by the floor to create marble
but when forced upon a page staring her blank in the face
with her wrists shackled by a pair of determined hands that needs
she withers like a sleepy plant
for she creates not for display or verdict, but for herself
unbound she vomits glitters onto paper
she thrives in the wilderness.
it’s 230 in the morning and i’m still awake.
i’m having my friday night- saturday early morning off having a drama marathon on my own, and one thing led to another… soon enough it was like having flashbacks of the times that we spent together.
as cheesy, and probably as romantically revolting as it sounds, i keep on remembering his smile- and he’s not exactly the type of person who can smile, you know. he cringes in front of the camera, and he doesn’t really take a proper picture without pulling his… cringe. but he actually smiles okay when he means it.
i miss him. and i’ve gone through many missing-people-moments that i know better than to deny it. there was this time when we laughed at the facebook messages his cousin sent him- his cousin cannot really speak English that well, but he tried, and it was funny. there is also this picture of the both of us, that we took while waiting for the fireworks to start in Toronto. that was the only, sort of genuine, smiling picture that i have of the both of us, and at least to me he looked sincerely happy.
but was he though?
it doesn’t really matter right now… for now, i’m restraining myself with all the fibers in my body to not text message him. alas, 230 AM decisions are never the best decisions anyway.
and maybe missing him like this too, is also a part of the process of moving on.
just a short post: i felt very disturbed during the two hours of class. it was post-colonialism Korean cinema and as soon as the class was over i bolted out. i didn’t even care about saying goodbye to my classmates i just had to get the hell out of there. maybe it was just me being too sensitive about it but it felt like i didn’t belong. i mean everyone must’ve felt like the stupidest person in the classroom at one point of their academic career, but i felt so intellectually insecure up to the point where i’m having thoughts that the reason why i am not, i guess, well-versed in accepting and absorbing the materials in class was because i’m not Korean. this is just a generalization on my part; not everyone in my class felt this sense of alienation of ‘not belonging’ but for me it was bordering microaggression. i hated today’s class.
(nov 5) update:
after writing that post i ranted a little more to Yusi who was having a fever. stopped to ask how she was and ranted a little more. i was an insensitive little bitch. she went home early (her cold probably worsened because of me) and i felt bad for complaining of my mental insecurities to a friend who is not even physically fit. after she went home, i decided i needed to calm down, stood up and drank a whole glass of ice cold water. shivering a little when i came back, i made myself do the weekly blog post for my other film course and was done in an hour. i realize two things while disciplining myself: first- time is unsympathetic. in the times that i was angry over something that now seems almost trivial, i could’ve gotten over that week’s blog post once and for all. second- i should be able to decide for myself how others will see me. sometimes you just have to amp up the confidence and set up your own definition of you. because other people will judge whether you like it or not, but i guess what you could do is to direct a little how it is that they’re going to judge you.
i felt so proud of myself.