on taking it slow

清明。

It’s both Easter Sunday and Tomb-sweeping Day. I saw some pictures online where people joked about being brought to life immediately after dying, or never being alive in the first place (something something cycle of morbid humour generations), which are funny and fair, I suppose. For some reason, in my mind, I interpreted the two to be the same. Technically, they’re both celebrations of life. To be obnoxious, in order to be certified dead, you’d have to be alive at some point. Something I commonly hear grieving people say is that as long as we remember them, they’re alive.

Overall, it’s a great day to remember the relationships and people that no longer exist. The act of keeping memories (and other such parts of the grieving process) is inherently self-centred, and I’m a big proponent of self-centred acts. I’ve written before about the concept of self-care earlier this year, and it may seem like something the younger generation has made up to excuse frivolous spending or silly indulgences but it’s really just another word for Living. What’s the point of actually being alive if you’re not finding something to enjoy? Or at the very least, something that isn’t objectively bad or personally annoying. Maybe I’m a little hedonistic.

Last night (or early this morning) we had a nice little cousin chat. There was actually very little actual chatting happening, and we also spent a good hour and a half playing games. We ended the call around 3-4AM, and I was feeling very energized (not sure if it’s because I got to talk to people, or because I had consumed a lot of sugar during that call, or maybe I’m truly nocturnal) so I worked on my various assignments until 6:30AM. I realized then that it really is spring, since the sun was beginning to rise. I still couldn’t sleep until probably 7 when I passed out magically. I woke up to the sun fully up and my room fairly warm (at 11AM). Then I played Animal Crossing and messaged some people back. After this post, I’ll go back to working, and then I’ll make and eat dinner…

Anyway, I really enjoy living on my own. Not to say that I prefer it all the time, since there’s definitely things I wish I had (the Touch of a Human Being, casual conversation, Really Great Dinners, snacks, calligraphy set…, etc), but it sure is nice to do whatever I want. Now, if only I could go outside… I’ve been sort of reading the news and being kind of desolate about the vaccination schedule. Seems like it could be better implemented But However I am not really qualified to comment on that. 🙂

I went on a few outings in the last few weeks, actually. Last weekend, to be precise. I’ve been mulling over a few thoughts, and had a few conversations and emails with my parents and grandpa about some things. I’ll most likely put it into a post when classes end (in a week or so, hopefully). It’s not really going to be all that interesting, but then again, this blog is also an entirely self-centred thing in the first place. Who am I writing to? Who’s reading it? I don’t know, and does it really matter? At the end, I’m just cataloguing my own thoughts for the future Me to read. At the very least, I’ll be entertained. Or maybe annoyed, I don’t know.

Reminds me of that class I had last semester where my instructor asked me “What makes you think people will want to read your blog/look at your work?”. You know, that’s a great question. I never thought about it. I assumed that people will look at it if they want, and everyone will have a different level of engagement with it. For example, I’d imagine my family to be less interested in my work/writing than my friends, while my classmates are more or less forced to look at my work. Whether they comment or not doesn’t matter as much to me either. Art (which is what I hope to make, I guess) is a pretty personal thing, and if the viewer has something to share, I’d appreciate hearing it, but if they just want to give me a thumbs up (or down), I don’t really mind.

What a disastrously (dis)organized post! I wrote messily about Living and then Art. How dramatic, and how fitting. I need more sleep, but since it’s Crunch Time, I don’t expect to get much for the next little while. Anyway, for a final thought before I get back to work: slower hobbies are fun. My dad tried to teach Gloria and I Chinese calligraphy when we were kids, and emphasis is placed on the word “tried”. Gloria and I were little shits (and still are, I think) and gave up after a few weeks, which also makes sense because our fine motor skills weren’t all that great back then. I have two of those brush pens with refillable ink and tried to write some words with what little I remembered and despite being Incredibly Bad, it’s pretty fun. It forces me to go very slow. Whenever I draw or write by hand, it’s always very fast and scribbly and I end up feeling very manic and easily frustrated when something doesn’t look right. I guess with the calligraphy brushes, I can’t really do that. Although there is a style of calligraphy which is more free and harder for someone like me to read… anyway, I’m just trying new things. It’s keeping me entertained for now. Drawing with those brush-pens is also pretty fun, too.