there’s always so much to be said

At any point in time, there’s always so much to be said — all of which would be a great inconvenience to anyone to dissect and recollect. If I even managed to say all that could be said, the wide spectrum of my ramblings would make it difficult to observe anything significant in them, and all my efforts would naturally be in vain. So, it becomes necessary for me to make a choice here: to pick a theme for my writing, to paint the last six months of my life in monochrome and lay it out for the reader.

But to not make a decision is also a fair decision, and to the extent that the usual spontaneity of my blog posts is preserved, I’d like to leave it to the reader to make the final calculations. On my part, I’ll simply spew out whatever memory I deem worthy of preservation.

I went to Seven Hotpot again — that Chinese place opposite Al Wahda Mall. The first time I was there, I was just looking for another novelty in a foreign country. You get a large pot of soup and you can cook all sorts of things at your table. Crabs, beef, squids — fun stuff. The second time around, in all fairness I guess this is how memory generally works, by the most unnecessary feat of neural connections, my brain went back a few months to reflect on the state of things as they were when I came here for the first time. That, of course, was a lot to think about, and enough to write a little bit about. The soup was alright though.

I think I started critical thinking about two years ago, or at least that’s as far as my journal entries go. It has been a strange cycle of we live in a society to I am the worst person to I am the best person and back again. The realization that we live in a society is quite interesting, because it always gets me thinking about the people around me. There are some people who are nice, and some who are not, some who make you become nice, and some who bring out the absolute worst in you. The last category of people are the ones I’m learning to veer away from them for my own sake. They are the ones who tried their hardest to convince me there’s something wrong with me, and either they themselves are the most delusional, or they try to sell me the delusion of them being indispensable in my life. I’m in touch with none of them right now, and I’m having a pretty good time.

I saw some art on Twitter a while ago that said something like “let emotions flow”. And yeah, that sounds about right. It’s definitely worth reflecting on things once in a while, like I am doing right now, but I can’t be too depressed, or toosensitive, or too vulnerable for too long — that never bodes well. On that same note, the people around me have been a terrific driver of my state of mind, and I guess the same applies to people too. I am nothing but a vessel for emotions and relationships.

I’m just generally trusting myself with having a good time now. Trusting my gut. Trusting my intuitions. There’s always a cacophony of people saying things, which makes it a bit too easy to forget that I can make my own valid, fair judgements. As I trust myself more, I’m also starting to take care of myself too. It’s not much but I’ve been eating better, going to the gym regularly, and taking care of my skin. I also have a lot of scented candles. This feels really nice, and I’m enjoying the space I have to myself (surprising I even have any because I literally share my bedroom with someone else), without which I wouldn’t have the time to think and do good to my own self. I texted my sister to tell her about my piercing, which I wanted for the longest time, and she said it looked lovely. We didn’t talk much back at home but it was really nice to hear that from her. I even shared some wisdom on how to take care of her own piercings, which haven’t been healing as well. My parents don’t know about my piercing yet, and I suppose they won’t find out for a while. But my bird has been growing pretty attached to my dad: I get pictures of them hanging out all the time, and it makes me terribly happy.

I’ve grown up with a strange sense of pride, or if I were in a different mood I’d perhaps say it’s a self-protective scheme, which to my own disdain keeps me from developing my friendships. It’s always a slight inability to reciprocate from my end, or reluctance to fill in a gap I was expected to give to, that stunts most of my social relationships. It feels very strange to talk about that, and I haven’t even figured out all the ways it affects me. But I’m trying, in very subtle ways, to change that and it’s going great.

Something’s up with my espresso machine, and the coffee tastes kinda off. I’m back to Starbucks for now. They really hit home with the toffee nut latte.