Or to begin again

A few reasons as to why I’m trying out the blog again: first, social media has probably ruined everyone, the way we can barely sustain our attention anymore and everything has to be in 140 characters. If anything, I hope going back to the blog can encourage that ideal again: sitting down at my laptop in spite of the ever updating news feeds, paying attention to my words. Second, despite my incurable impulse towards deletion (how many blogs, now thankfully deleted, must have I gone through since high school), I have to continue to use my words.

The week has been fruitful, as most of the weeks I have had have been since shifting to creative writing. We took up Anne Carson (excerpts from “The Anthropology of Water”—the accumulation of resonances I fell in love with), Virginia Woolf (“Street Haunting: A London Adventure”—and how gorgeous an essay it is), and Louise Glück (The Wild Iris, 1998) in my poetry and nonfiction classes. Earlier in the week, I filed my minors in English and music literature, which is very exciting. And, as it turns out, it looks like I’m going back to Japan this summer (spring, then): Otsu, Uji, and Kyoto, where I left my heart.

When I dropped by the mall earlier today with my mother, there were displays of predictions for the Chinese new year. 2014 promises change and excitement, it read, as it seems in love and career general success is in the stars. I’ve had my fair share of feng shui; I bought an amulet and a small statue of Buddha once for good health when I was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. In fact I remember, speaking to one expensive feng shui consultant, it seemed like she was reading me entirely—from my health to my family to my friends to the house where I live.

Adorning so many charm bracelets they reached close to her elbow on each arm, she distinctly asked me toward the end of our conversation, “Are you okay?”, in a voice that, at the time, I could tell was sincere because I was so transparent. I didn’t want anyone to read me like that again, and in many ways that openness has since been what I have striven to avoid. How elusive that really is: vulnerability. People ask that from me all the time and I think, it must only be true if it is spare.


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