Like Liquid

I've been having a lot of thoughts about money this week. 

Mostly because I've been spending as if I thought money grew on trees. 

I'm a little weirded out by my level of want/need these days. Before I lived with med school roommates, I really did live the minimalist life. That frugal college life that was also impacted by frugal Asian parents that persistently told me to turn off the lights if we left the house to save energy; to keep the temperature high in the summer and low in the winter to keep bills low; to only buy only if you needed it. Did you actually need a toaster? No, you can use your skillet to heat up your bread. Do you need to decorate your room? Nah, you're moving in a year anyway. 

But it's like that transition from stupid flip phones to smart phones. It's really, really, really hard to go back. Almost nigh impossible. I have yet to hear of a person who went back to non-smart phones willingly.

And when you "upgrade" your life, it's really hard to go back. I'm used to a lot of house luxuries that apartments may or may not have. And I really don't want to go without.

And I can't tell if that's because I'm spoiled now or because that's a new normal.

And that's the weird, weird thing that I consistently realize. That everyone's normals are completely different. What was my normal five years ago is not my normal now.

But then again, I am no longer in Texas. So of course nothing is completely normal. 

----

I am not really homesick. 

But more thoughts on that later.

Poetry

Unsettled

Your words are like stones

on the river of my heart,

remembered until the ripples fade

and the edges worn smooth

from the number of times

they turn over in my head.

travel

there are times where so much has happened that it becomes vaguely overwhelming to even think about writing it all down in a post. whether for documentation purposes or general memory or sharing or whatever. there is always something lost. experiences get pared down into simple paragraphs, emotions are left unsaid, conversations are skipped over entirely.

nevertheless, i am glad.
i hadn't been back to taiwan in approximately 12 years.
i had a lot of thoughts going back - who wouldn't?

1. it is a bit of an odd feeling to realize that i am simply playing tourist in a place where i have so many family ties. despite going around with my cousins and talking to all my relatives, despite knowing (mostly) knowing the language, i really am american. i really am asian-american. and that combination is whole different thing entirely.

2. it was so, so strange to be around extended family. in america, my family is my nuclear family. i might see second cousins or whatnot, but their presence in my life is fairly fleeting. but in taiwan, hanging around cousins for days made me wonder what it would be like to have a bigger family.

3. and tying into that thought above, this is the first time i realized how much of a decision my parents made to stay in america. they've been here for more than 30 years. longer time than they lived in taiwan. but talking to my uncle, he made a passing comment about how having my dad, his younger brother, leave to america and not return was like losing a right arm (mostly with regards to the family company). and in light of me leaving out of state, my parents have made a much larger move than i ever, ever will. but also. it's one of those perspective moments where i think it must have been very, very hard for them when they first came.

4. taiwan was hot and humid. and it had the most delicious mangoes. i ate mangoes every moment i could. and here's the thing. the food is still like homestyle to me. even though i wrote that i was playing tourist and i don't really belong in taiwan (i don't), the food is comfort food. even going to places like din tai fong or rou xao, all this food is familiar. as if i could belong here if i wanted to. and while my chinese is not great, even in the two weeks, i sometimes had the inkling that maybe i could make it here if i wanted. and of course my uncle continually told my brother and i that we would always have a place to live if we wanted to stay and learn taiwan. it's just one of those things that makes you wonder how much more different your life would be if one thing changed.

5. but then.... there's some family drama around my dad's side of the family company. but as the "american family", we have exactly zero interest in it and completely don't care. so maybe it's better to not have those specific family problems.

6. it was weird how i could see such similarities through my family. the way my dad and uncle are so similarly stubborn about arguments, the ways eyes are shaped. the physical and the non-physical. i hadn't had a chance to realize the ways families can be similar.

7. traveling through taiwan with my cousins was beautiful and lovely and wonderful. we climbed mountains, ate so much food, went bicycling next to the shore, roamed through night markets, went up to taipei 101, drank so much tea, ate desserts, took a ferry, watched the sunset with a huge shaved ice the size of my head. we went to tai chong with my mom's side uncle and walked more mountains, ate the most delicious dessert, had a taste test o the dessert, made the jellies, walked a shore, saw crabs, went to the Sun Moon Lake, watched the sun turn the world into a beautiful painting, shopped. these are the days that i want to remember.

8. japan was..... shrug. i need to go back to experience it differently.

9. i sometimes think that i have not experienced enough. i have not gone to enough countries. i have not traveled enough. i have not seen enough.

9.5 and interlude thought: sometimes i wonder if it's fomo. when i see other people traveling, i feel like i am missing out on life experiences. and then i wonder if i am stagnant as a person if i have not pushed myself to explore and try new things. but then talking to a friend who has the most beautiful instagram photos, she laughing told me how her utterly professionally looking beautiful cake (made of dragonfruit powder for a purple-jellied top over a mango mousse) tasted horrible - but the picture was incredible. so the obvious answer is that photos are hardly representative of true life. and fomo is just made up in your head.

9.7 but i just don't know if i believe it because i do think there is value in experience new things. whether the cake tastes like crap or not, she still made it. whether the trip to ireland or new zealand or thailand or peru was crap, you still went.

10. i am glad to be home. but even coming home is only a temporary transition before my next move.

Leaving

I have not written anything of substance down for so long. It's because there are too many thoughts in my head, too many questions, too many confusing and half-formed sentences that would never make sense if it were written down.

I am leaving this city and it hasn't exactly hit me yet. I've wanted to leave for so long, and now I have moments where I can't imagine leaving. Time is passing by too quickly. I have such a short time left with these people. How does one ever get used to saying goodbye?

Or maybe I'm just scared of the future. It's not so much that I want to stay as much as I am clinging to the past and the known. Venturing out into unknown territory.

But it doesn't really matter. It will hit me after I leave, and when it happens it will be too late but to get on with life.

Poetry to share

"How I Go to the Woods"

Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
unsuitable.

I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.

Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.

If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much.

- Mary Oliver

Art

Since I had some spare time in between meeting friends and eating dinner and whatnot, I googled free events in the city. There was a beautiful thumbnail picture of sculptures at an art gallery called The Silos. So just drove over there to pretend to be cultured and look at art.

Walked in and immediately it's obvious that it is repurposed warehouse. Hard grey concrete everywhere with the ventilation pipes visible on the ceilings and PVC pipes around each corner. It was bare of everything except the frames of art and the floor to ceiling sculptures. It was not at all like a polished art gallery at well known art museums, or even smart art displays for students at colleges or whatnot. Instead it felt very unfinished, rough around the edges, and a display of artists who were waiting for their big break.

Apparently The Silos are individual art studios for independent artists instead of a specific artist showcasing. The thumbnail sculpture that drew me in wasn't even there, but there was still some interesting art. I actually really loved it - less the art and more the experience. Just wandering around the warehouse, cold concrete lined with frames and pieces of art, was just something that made me really think a lot about art and what that means.

How valuable is art, what is the price you would put for these pieces, how hard it is to make a living, and also what exactly constitutes art. Looking at some of the pieces, I was wondering what my basis of judging art came from. Was it - do I like it enough to put on my kitchen wall? or was it - it makes me feel something. or was it - would I pay for it? It was just really beautiful to see the different types of mediums and the sculptures and also just inspiration for art in general. To look at art and wonder if these pieces are parts of their souls and that they have given a bit of it onto canvas - and I sit here and judge it if it's worthy to be on my kitchen wall. Also in another part of my mind, it makes me want to be creative again. What would be the outpouring of my soul onto canvas? Would it be acrylic or oil, would it be hard lines, what would I do.

There is a line in Sunday in the Park with George, a musical based on Georges Seurat's famous pointillism painting called A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, that goes: White: a blank page or canvas.... so many possibilities.

That's what these unknown artists' art reminds me of. That there are so many possibilities. And the cumulative results of all the work is not necessarily the most brilliant or the most wonderful. But surely the striving that came from all that effort is better than just leaving it all blank. Endless possibilities is wonderful, but it is better to try than not.

There are some pieces that I wanted to remember. One was a large drapery that reminded me of those movies of arabian worlds or just the poorer districts of the world where they don't have roofs. Hanging drapes in the corridor of a concrete warehouse, and it makes me think of third world countries. Painted gold paper roses framed, winter trees at night, large globs of paint dripped onto canvas, chess pieces in revolving perspectives, a strange mixture of paint and resin and geometric spirals and figures.

It is art. And art is beautiful.

Halcyon days

What they told me today: stop and smell the roses. sometimes it is the journey that will be greater than the destination. you will get to the end, but if you forget to stop and breathe, then you will have missed out on so much more.

Being in this city makes me nostalgic in a way that the scent of white pear tree blossoms instantly reminds me of my childhood home. Maybe it is all rose-colored lenses. I leave too much of my heart everywhere I go.

I thought I knew what I wanted all this time. And now these days I realize how little I actually know of what I want. And if that's the case, I might as well pause to tip toe through the tulips, sniff a rosebud or two, and go wandering down the bayou.

Tomorrow will be what tomorrow brings. But today, there is just nostalgia, conversation, and boba.

---

Strolling through parks and green spaces, drinking coffee at cute coffee shops, talking about everything and nothing, relaxing in a park bench and watching the fluffy white clouds, wandering through art galleries, swinging on children's playgrounds, eating egg tarts and ramen and dim sum and all the food, laughing, swinging in a hammock at a beer garden, wandering through fondy, lying on the 180 to see the stars, getting a massage, window shopping and leisurely exploring the village, reminiscing.

If only life could be like this every day.

Idyllic moments, these halcyon days.
Every day a silver lining.