Hello again

It's been awhile.

So long that I'd almost forgotten how to write. Today I took some time to revisit my old posts, reading over some cringe-worthy moments in my life as well as some great ones. Past thoughts, ponderings, and even photographs. This blog is almost beginning to feel like a past life. When did I stop taking photographs? Or for that matter, when did I cease creating?

You could say that I've been sitting around ripening like an old cheese, or that like wine, I'm only getting better with age. But that's a lie. In all honesty, I've just been lazy. So it may be late, but it's time to come down hard on some two thousand and thirteen resolutions. Because of course, putting them in writing makes them official.

Let's see. First and foremost, to stop sulking or hiding or whatever it is you're doing, and go out to be as awesome as you want to be. I like to believe that our lives, for the most part anyway, are what we let them be. So if I'm unhappy with my own life then I'm to blame, and it's time for me take responsibility for that.

So here comes the word vomit. There's learn a new language and start reading literature again, for I've wanted to finish Victor Hugo's Les Miserables in it's unabridged entirety since I went ahead and watched the movie without reading the book, which is the first time I've ever done that with a piece of literature and while we're at it, I'll plan to re-read Cloud Atlas which has been my favorite book these past two years; I've also started Nabokov's Pnin which was recommended by a friend and as an aside, that reminds me that I need to vet all books I read from now on because I seem to have lost my touch in selecting books that I will love - case in point, the last book that I spent money on in a bookstore was a total waste of my time, I didn't even get past page fifty. Then, there's continue making art or at least doodling and drawing; I used to take my sketchbook out everywhere with me and now it's lying forlorn in the corner of my living room where all my un-shelved books are while my art supplies such as paint and pencils and more are just somewhere in a box unpacked although I've been "moved in" to my current apartment for more than six months and clearly have had the time to unpack and decide to embark and start on all the artsy side projects that are living inside of my head like the one where I was going to create drawings of all my family members and give them to each the next time I went back to Hong Kong...

This could go on for awhile. I'm going to bite my tongue and keep it there for now, and check back in oh, I don't know 3 months to see where I am. According to The Power of Habit, if I find a way to change my keystone habit, all other things should follow - and I suspect that my keystone habit is simply procrastination.

For lovers only.

I've decided that I want to live in black-and-white. Sort of, anyway. Everytime I watch a black-and-white movie, I want to be in it. Michael Polish's For Lovers Only is no exception. The film is one long, beautiful poem about former lovers serendipitously meeting one another and spending stolen time away from their spouses.

Let us go then, you and I.
When the evening is spread out against the sky...
In T.S. Eliot style. 

Philly, the city of love.

It's been awhile, since I've been around here. Life catches on fast, and you just get busy. I've forgotten to do some of the things that I used to make habits, like fill up my sketchbook or take photographs or write. I suppose the first step is to start doing. There's a strange solitude in taking time to pursue personal goals.

This is from my weekend trip to Philly last month. It was a whirlwind of beautiful weather, museums, BYOB restaurants, fresh scones at brunch, strange curio shops, and just walking around with friends. I came back with Asher's chocolate covered potato-chips (such an interesting pairing) and two old school records, Igor Stravinsky conducting The Rite of Spring, and Basil Rathborne narrating Sherlock Holmes The Silver Blaze. Nostalgia buys always get me, even though I don't own a record-player.

Byebye, Philly. 'Til next time.

Oh, Sevilla.

They say you're the Paris of southern Europe. Quaint, beautiful, and romantic. As with every city, I've enjoyed uncovering unexpected surprises.

Reflections

Mirrors upon mirrors, on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. This is Tomas Saraceno's Cloud City. Like droplets of water that encompass a cloud, Tomas' sculpture is a mirroring fractal, reflecting light in all directions. You kind of just feel like floating along in the sky..

I couldn't help thinking of Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell, especially as we roamed around finding every single reflective surface we could photograph ourselves in. With nestled narratives, Mitchell performs such an amazing feat by writing in six very distinct styles and genres ranging from nineteenth century romance to futuristic work. I could just imagine the various narratives of Cloud Atlas running parallel throughout the sculpture. There are so many great romantic reflexive one-liners about literature and books dotted throughout the work. For one who loves books, this is wonderful and strikes all the right chords. The film by Wachowskis is supposed to come out later this year, but I'm a bit skeptical since Tom Hanks and Halle Berry are starring.

Frobisher tells us that "a half-finished book is a half-finished love affair". How true.

Look closely. I can never get used to wearing pink, but I picked up this topper in Zara.

Diary Days

When I was younger, I used to keep a more traditional type of diary. It would consist of random tidbits from my day - what I had for lunch, what I had been paranoid about, maybe even what shoes I decided to wear that day. Like any ten-year-old girl, I had felt that diaries were a need. 

Nowadays, I find that I can't keep that routine up any more, however much I know that it would be wonderful to look back on my thoughts in a year's time. But there are other ways to reflect on the past. I love Keel's Simple Diaries  for that reason. They make keeping a diary, more interesting and reflective. Every day different questions prompt the writer to consider: what flaws do you see in yourself, in others, how would you feel about having regret, what does it mean to make decisions. Some of the questions that are asked may seem flippant, but there is meaning behind its simplicity. If you're drawn to certain answers, there are revelations you can make about yourself, and your points of view.

They've also extended the series into an app, in case you're more of a digital person. Winding down with some reflective time, is a great end to any day. Especially Sunday.

Runaway train

1Q84 is a storm torrent. It barrels on and on, as Murakami grips his reader within a world where there are two moons.

In the book, Tamaru references Checkov, reminding the reader "According to Checkov, once a gun appears in a story, it has to be fired. Meaning, don't bring unnecessary props into a story". Murakami's novel takes this to heart, as everything however minor becomes an integral part of the plot. Some things are obvious, others not so much. They linger on the edges of your consciousness.

What I enjoy most about Murakami is the way he describes these other worlds, the elements of surreality and oddity carry me along, and suddenly, I'm drifting into the world where there are two moons... When I finish, it feels like a feat. And then it's time to celebrate with a bowl of pho.