Childish Energy

I was looking for a word or way to describe how I felt today. Me and my co-worker have been using "vengeful", but today I think it went a bit further than that, and it was layered with other things. I decided it would bring me comfort to write them out instead, as Mr Chow whispers it to Angkor Wat at the end of In the Mood for Love.

The feeling reminds me of the story of an Italian man doing a semi-Forrest Gump after having an argument with his wife and walking 450 km (and semi-funnily/cynically, getting fined for breaching a Coronavirus curfew). I don't know exactly how he must have felt, but I would think he was filled with the sort of energy or feelings that I had today.

I also thought of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, a movie I haven't actually seen, but as I understand it is just some kid who skips class and decides to take an adventure around Chicago. He might have been motivated by more childish feelings, but in a way I was also motivated by that too.

It made me think of how disgraceful being "childish" is seen, and yet petulance, being a "hater", being fueled by spite and pettiness, is, when I think about it, one of the purest forms of motivation in a time when it seems like people often lose steam, burn-out, lose will, etc. I liked that in Inside Out, anger was shown in some scenes to be a fueling force behind taking action, for me, this is childish energy.

Ye, I was feeling "childish" today - I worked late the past 2 weeks, and while I think they were useful and "necessary" perhaps - it was not satisfying. A coincidence that the evening after the work was presented, I read a reddit post asking what things are over-romanticized, and the literal top post was over-working. It went something like "nobody's going to clap for you, you'll just get another email". I didn't feel like I was supported well, or listened to, or seen, in the process, perhaps.

Opening the mini-Zen garden also made me consider whether I was falling victim to a common male pattern of externalizing my problems and resolving them that way too. I do a healthy amount of escapism through games and media, and today I went more "extra" by "reclaiming" the 16 hours I lost doing unpaid overtime essentially. I had left the office an hour earlier than usual last week and today I went a bit further by A. not drinking any caffeine - as I decided to do my no coffee day on a work day where I knew what I had to accomplish was more brainless, B. leaving early to go see a movie and C. not related to work per se but about externalizing my issues - getting some ice cream - I might add, the same flavor that me and Chris had gotten a few days ago, but she conveniently ate all of it even though I thought we were sharing it. I suppose this reminded me most of the Italian man who decided to be extra instead of confronting their partner - I'm just that tired maybe, or more true for me, don't like burdening others with an emotional binge of sorts - it's neither helpful nor healthy for anybody.

Slight tangent - I've come to appreciate Worst Person in the World a bit more, in that the film does portray someone I actually do not have much sympathy for/I actively despite, since I value loyalty and consequently hate infidelity - but I suppose the film would not have worked if they chose something only lukewarm and not an actual unpopular opinion. In a way I also do petulant, unsavory, childish things - my life is great, but dumb, sometimes 1st world problems or injustice convinces me that you know what, sometimes nobody is going to look out for you, and that I should not be entitled and expect it in the first place - you have some power to just quietly look out for yourself.

So that was me today, just self-caring a little because nobody else was, and that's OK. I went and saw Superman, and I cried a little at different parts of the movie. I've always thought Superman was a boring character, but this movie has convinced me otherwise. People are saying it's because the director Gunn understands the character, and I think they're right. I think that his vision and understanding of the character, as well as the actor who plays him - felt earnest and got to me in a corny way. In an interview he did with BBC1's Ali Plumb - David Corenswet talks about what defines his understanding of the character, and he says that Superman is contradictory - his upbringing and life is actually great in a lot of ways, and he doesn't have the tragic backstory (or at least, the destruction of Krypton is not the same as seeing your parents murdered in "crime alley"), but he is lonely. He's still an alien, who feels human, and chooses to walk and live amongst us as Clark too, but sometimes is reminded he is an alien by others, but he earnestly wants to be good, and kind, and protect others because he does see the good in everyone (which in the DCAU this role is more taken by the Flash perhaps). Watch the interview, he states it more eloquently than I. Or as the movie puts it as well, in a corny way no doubt, and almost embracing it - maybe it (kindness, and seeing the best in others) is punk rock. 

The show also reminded me that aside from petulance, the "childish energy" I have, which motivates a lot of what I do personally, even if I think and opine differently at the level of society or country, is very "childish". I try my best not to break the simplest of rules in a lawful good kind of way, and I find myself thinking and admiring still the "shonen" type heroes like Naruto, and ye, this version of Superman too. I think something really has been lost with all the intellectual nuance and "well this and that complicates this".  We often think of these simple values as perhaps "missing the point/reality of the situation", making excuses of pragmatism or "but how will people see this/take it" - and I am 200% guilty of falling into this trap of mistaking complication for intellect/experience. I certainly think the US's Democratic Party has lost the plot through the opposite - political-sciencing their message - test audiencing/making things palatable and messaging, has become the prime focus instead of the message and content itself - just put yourself out there, with an honest re-telling of what you're about and you're focus, and let those things come later, and letting the voters discern and choose. 

But I digress, so ends this short day, time to patch the temple with mud.

I looked at the boat on my blog

And wondered why I feel something for it. I wondered if I really liked that kind of idyllic lifestyle, when often I don't feel enthused to do similar activities right now. Then I came to realize it's the setting that enables the lifestyle I want - being able to literally sit on a boat for a few hours with no consequences or responsibilities after. I might just be that tired on no-caffeine-days after having to return to work for 5 days a week and continuing to do most of the weekend chores and finally working on my final language of the 6 UN languages (العربية). Often I feel better after having ate - so maybe these are the beginnings of the dreaded sugar-ed up American diet. Speaking of which, I sometimes feel trapped by my situation - in some sense by who I've decided to love and where I've decided to make a living. But because I've decided I cannot be trapped. Anyway, the country is pretty fucked, always has been but more so now, and not directionally so too, it seems. Let's just eat and stop being hangry/hungemotional. 

Every Second Counts

I wonder if there's a word for feeling outside of time, of routine. Disconnection? Transit between terminals? Maybe there's a German word for it. Being put on hold. 

Dos Mil Cien Pesos

I write (wrote) this in the twilight of the year. The colours don't blend,the redder the sky, the bluer the water. I always do, even when the change is arbitrary, it is real because it is made.

I wanted to 'actively rest'. I imagine like some writer who spends his time in a cottage by the sea and puts down, materializes his abstractions into a murder mystery. I sat in the taxi yesterday coming home (regresan), and wondered if I had let me ideal of Chris insidiously overcome the reality of her. I wonder what people do to reconcile this. I also wonder why reality is  often thought of as grittier and grimmer. Maybe because we would rather daydream sunshine than night.

I am proud of the baby steps me llevo en espanol. Haco? Mis mejor enfruerzo. I am no genius, I have to do things the hard way. Which is the traditional way. I wondered if my time was so spare, or perhaps my mentality not under the "siege" of time slipping that allowed me this. Or simply talking to real people right after studying a book. I hope to repeat this in San Francisco, maybe with Russian, then Arabic, then ?? Malay and Cantonese, or in reverse, and let my fears go, let the image of an embarrassed adult be that of the old white lady visiting Paris, and trying her best.

All I wanted was a black grand national. Funnily, my blank ink dried. I've always been a 'hopeless romantic' with 'a bleeding heart', I like writing and speaking metaphorically and abstractly, though I guess people would want it more structured, disciplined, to give it respect. Rambling doesn't justify attention. Maybe that's why I like reading Ying Yue's blog, or find it endearing she reads mine (at some point), it feels like a kindred spirit, though in reality I don't know her outside of that stream of consciousness. I also wonder if it's a form of luxury (it is) to have mental leisure time like this as if my time need not be spent productively. My hope, my justification is simply that it brings about renewed clarity and agility in my thinking later.

Time to think of a nickname, in Spanish, for her.

Feeling fast and slow

I move slow and steady, but I feel like a waterfall. I move slow and steady, past the ones that I used to know.

I decided to stay here for Thanksgiving, having declined and offer to join Chris in NC with her family and (new) extended family. I'm glad I did, I was very tired and didn't have the energy I think to first of all socialize, but second of all adapt culturally to a family that is 3 degrees of separation away from me. I'm not sure, visualizing myself in that space, if I could stomach the loneliness, ironically, more than being alone.

I was annoyed this morning because I thought about using my phone since I was pretty productive past 3 weeks and Chris woke up and immediately told me using my phone in bed is bad and that she just learnt that. I was annoyed because we literally talked about this before, me sharing Dr K's insights about the subject, and it seems like she either forgot, doesn't care to remember, or didn't listen. Not the first time, and very frustrating. Maybe sometimes I should just ask her what we just talked about like yesterday to see if she's listening. That's toxic though, but I also am feeling pretty helpless, as if I'm talking to a bot that only responds in the moment and with a lot in platitudes, a bit like Jacob maybe. I suppose my mind is implicitly comparing to other people to whom A. don't live with me and maybe it's easier to remember rarer interactions, B. are smarter, as in my colleagues, and C. I am not as emotionally invested in if they don't listen. I was frustrated too at myself of course, because in some ways I consider it a bit of a weakness to give in to cravings too easily, and I judge Chris for it a lot. In a way it's like hearing a smoker tell you not to smoke, but in that scenario the smoker 100% knows the are addicted to smoking, and in this scenario Chris always has an excuse for her own habits, then later regrets not being productive as if they were not correlated. Question is should I care? I do it automatically, but should I dis-associate from that outcome?

I sometimes reflect that a lot of my instinctual reactions for better or worse are still tied to saving face, imposter syndrome, or the metaphorical inside-out 2 "anxiety" in my head.

Now perhaps on to processing the main impetus. There is great churn in my workplace. Most meaningfully two of my longest running managers whom have been really great and that I've built rapport with.  I'm blessed I'm still there and that my staying team members trusts and values me still. I look back with a lot of nostalgia and confusion. There was a certain level of startup-intimacy in the team, but the team is much larger than 2 pizzas now. I feel a lot of things. Like a turtle and everyone else are hares. Like a sailor on the ship of Theseus. Like the youngest and the oldest. Like a foreigner in a foreign land to which I still do not embrace outside of practicality. I've thought much also about the role models in my life and why I now go about life the way that I do, including the larger and life figures of fiction and non-fiction. I feel tired of being annoyed. Let the uncertainty come, I'll handle it.

I gave some thought to why I like Singlish. I am sure to some extent this is true of other native languages and accents too, except I cannot imagine it for Americans except for certain (minority group) vernacular. I can only describe it through feeling and characteristics. It's a feeling of authenticity. When Singaporeans complain, or use slang, it makes even corny messages feel sincere. Or maybe it's because I feel the opposite with other kinds of English. There's a certain amount of camaraderie, maybe from not being in Singapore together that is already shared the moment you speak it outside of Singapore. But it's almost as if, I were allowed to say things plainly and straight-forwardly, or maybe it's the special end-phrase intonation/signifiers that add "word emojis" to each sentence, something that modern internet memes have caught up to, to some degree.

Real tired

As opposed to imaginary tired. I'm taking a page out of Dr. K's book to emotionally regulate by typing it out. As a creature of habit, I've no more youth to handle too much unexpected challenges without validation or help.

Ended up scrolling through the SF whatsapp chat - really interesting, somewhat amusing seeing people discuss race, with a pseudo-generational divide. It's interesting because there are I guess "trigger phrases" - not in a sense of wow you're woke and getting triggered sort of mocking "own the libs" language but more like suspected dog whistles - like older people saying "race is not an issue" (in Singapore). Which is wrong, but also has this "older people say that" kind of wrong? Anyway back to work.

Many things easy, some things hard

 Thoughts to think:

1. Work

Things have changed, slowly, as always. People have come and gone and or are going. I remain, but I also change. It's hard to have a barometer without comparison, I always compare. Daniel Kahneman says that's just how we translate things into good or bad, by comparison, sort of. I think, I believe I am happy, and that I'm the tortoise in the hare and the tortoise, except there is no race, really. I'm happy the hare took a nap, if they were tired and wanted to. There was no need to win, I don't know what the prize is, carrots?

2. Communication

Difficult and awkward and frustrating. Supposed to be hard, I understand. Harder when different culture. Harder when you feel like you can see it and have to translate for them. Probably true, and probably my responsibility, as the immigrant. But what if I'm tired, what if I want to learn new things, have people translate for me? I feel restless, like I want to "get on with it". I don't like repeating, I feel like repeating is doing things that've been done (duh), and it's like, a waste of time? But I know in my head, that's how things are - attention waxes and wanes, and things are hard to comprehend or know. Ironically, this is what I've failed to do myself - comprehend, know, accept, that it takes time. Dr. K said something basic, somewhat contradictory, but I reflected on it to understand. He said that most people start in anger - or I guess, that they feel like they have to communicate now! urgently! importantly! while feeling the feelings! But our mind is wonderful because it forgets - the feelings pass, and you will get over it (well, first world problems that is) - by all means, communicate to not get taken advantage of, set your boundaries. But you don't need to do it in the moment, if the moment is aggregated. I shut down when I'm over-burdened, like an over-clocked CPU.

3. Quiet

I have some quiet now. I also have some quiet in the bus. How to tell people I want some quiet without hurting their feelings? Without risking miscomprehension? I re-read the last post I made - I felt like I wanted to just be in a library. How healthy is it to be alone in your thoughts? Maybe it is sort of meditative - I have many thoughts, so I have to face them, talk (blog) through them, and then I can let my mind be bored and empty but satisfied. This has been hard to communicate to Chris, I am afraid I will be the person who tells her I am not interested in things she's really interested in, and I feel (but I don't know!) that she's disappointed, or takes it badly, when I do say I'd like to do something else or be somewhere else, or just do my own thing. But it is not healthy to be pent up and to stew for too long. But I am also uncertain if this feeling will last, or I just need a few good hours. Perhaps that's what I need to communicate - I would like to be alone or quiet for a couple of hours, that's all. I do not want to talk or listen right now, it's tiring to be tuned externally all the time. I think next movie I'll watch is perfect days.

4. Singapore

I took a break before writing this part. Longer break than intended. Told myself I would have to address this sooner or later. Singapore has taken on nostalgic qualities. I haven't lived there in so long. All memories are like this, I know rationally. But it's addictive to think about it, to pretend like I'm forever an alien pining for home. It's unhealthy, and probably an avoidance of my responsibilities here, which are overwhelming. It reminds me sometimes of Martian Manhunter as represented in the justice league animated series. A stoic guardian who had lost his home, and only after a long time decides to look for happiness in his new one.

I just finished reading my brothers' book, it's pretty good, I think, for a first time "writer" (nobody really is, since we all write essays and stories in school, I guess). Maybe I'm biased, there's sort of a confounding variable here - on one hand I do believe that writing something personal is always apparent, and it was expressed here. On the other I am also personally involved, and may have been moved by it and failed to see amateurish mistakes. Regardless, it's not the only book I'm reading at the moment with references to my home.

I'm also reading a Singaporean short stories book Chris got at Littered with Books. Ironically this fulfils my reading challenge book salad criteria and not the cat book I bought, which I will read later. Anyway, it's a lot. Like emotionally a lot. I feel both like I understand everything and yet I have so much I don't know. I feel many things about this. I am ashamed of my mandarin, lack of dialect, no malay either. Though slowly I of course lose even my singlish accent probably. This is of course my choice. Living here I mean, I'm just, reminiscing and wishing. I wish people could understand me and how I feel. But so far I merely feel unheard or never get to the point of taking deeply. It's probably the first time I've felt so far and homesick. Maybe because in college, there was a thought that I would move back, that my identity was clearly Singaporean since everybody asks me about it all the time. It was the clear defining factor, as we all hold on to some and project onto others. Now it is not so clear. It is also not so clear that Chris wants to be in Singapore, which I understand. I'm at peace with it, kind of. It sort of comes and goes I suppose. As in past lives though, it's the one piece that she cannot ever understand - or is that the fallacy being shown in past lives? No, I think it was a tragedy, the grieving of the past life. Grief is a big part of the theme in my brothers' book, and also these short stories actually. I'm grateful for the sprinkling of humorous tales, but a majority are about things lost - there's a lot of ghost stories to this effect too. I feel like even at a meta-level, I understand why the stories are being written. Intellectually, I can do so for American stories too, but my heart and soul do not necessarily follow as closely. Ironically, I feel frustrated in my privilege. As if I want the pain of the empathy for all humans! No, I close off, as a safety measure. It's enough to think about Singapore's pains and longings. I'm reluctant to engage emotionally, because I am a frightened and selfish child, who wants empathy too. Ironic that I cannot pay the price myself.

Or maybe I'm just tired, and people pleasing, and not able to communicate effectively, or want to be taken care of, or to be understood easily, or all of the above. I remember talking to Jacob, my new director, sort of unabashedly, in my typical candid way talking about how much I miss Singapore after going back. But then I play the tape all the way through , and it's the same, and there is no magic that my nostalgia promised. It just is, things are, that is. Maybe what I want and need to communicate for is just the peace and quiet to think and blog and take the bus silently and not be constantly dealing, partially self-imposed. I want to travel somewhere quiet, just to read the signs, to not have to talk about it except when I want to, later. To sit on the bus and see the hilly landscape that makes the land of a thousand hills.