I dreamed that I was walking in a big nameless city, ahead of my boyfriend and then some kind of explosion happened. He was about a block or so behind me so I texted him to check if he was okay/alive. I saw him typing, and then I think the dream shifted to another scene. Something similar actually happened in real life, so it was a little strange to see that same distressful flavor of a scene but with a different backdrop and elements. I love that I’m remembering my dreams again. I wonder if the change in my media consumption and habits has anything to do with it.

I woke up later than I was meant to yesterday. It’s my own doing. I’m trying to squeeze time writing at unorthodox hours, but then I end up watching YouTube, which depletes and distracts me. I also had a very social week. I’ve noticed that when I do have less time for myself, I tend to get tired quickly.

New friends (through another friend L) were hosting a Blu-Ray screening of What a Way to Go! a film released in 1964 around lunch time and I only woke up 1 hour before it was meant to start. I took my time and texted that I would be late, and ended up arriving an hour later than the time on the calendar invite. This would have normally made me spiral into a certain state of mind, and feel like a bad friend, but I have decided that on weekends especially, Chronos, should not be followed, and should take a back seat. I picked up some goods at the bakery first but by the time I showed up, I still had only missed 20 minutes or so of the film. They were sweet enough to pause it for me so I could settle in. A&C, our hosts, were such a laid-back and sweet couple. They let us, the guests occupy the couch, so 4 of us were cozily squeezed in, and made sure we had pillows, blankets, snacks, and everything.

C had a DJ set at one of the local parties afterwards so that’s where 5 out of the group of 7 headed right after. Needless to say, I danced my pants off all Sunday. I didn’t stay till the end of the headliner DJ’s set though, but I figured since I stepped foot on the dance floor at 4pm (barely anyone else was dancing), I was allowed to leave whenever I fancied. In my mind, I wanted to get home before the crowds restlessly headed out together. Parties can be chaotic in the aftermath, everyone either trying to get a private car, or walking towards the bus stop. And besides, I had a printer with me (yes, a whole machine in a large brown paper bag) and decided to trek towards the nearest bus stop as soon as I found a peaceful moment to do so.

I’ve been taking the physical copy of the book I’m reading around with me on my commute. Right now it’s Haruki Murakami’s latest The City and Its Uncertain Walls. Unlike Miranda July’s All Fours, which is the last novel I remember enjoying with the same interest and enthusiasm, I am reading this one slowly and pausing to put it down between chapters. I had consciously decided not to bring it with me to the film screening, but I did borrow a book at A&C’s house so that kept me company on my bus ride home. It’s Mark Ronson’s memoir called Night People: How to be a DJ in ‘90s New York City. It’s charming, but I don’t know that I’ll finish it. I like his person on the page, but I didn’t realize until I started to ready how privileged and nepotistic his upbringing was. This is not anything I think he is meant to feel guilty about, but the fact itself does not make me feel drawn to his world either. The growing up in NYC in the ‘90s part intrigued me, but as I kept turning each page, I can’t help but notice that a lot of his success in the world appeared before him because of his privilege. I’m turned off because I don’t get a sense of self-reflection on that.

Card Pulled from the MW deck: “Tornado Girl” Reading the meaning, I can feel that something has changed. I’ve been transported to a different landscape in a new body, and I’ve not been here before as this “self”. I wonder about the adventure that awaits.

#writing #daily #taro

It’s Sunday. 4:21am and I have been working on the logo for my personal re-selling project. I was never a designer by choice, but these last few weeks have made me realize that it has been what life has asked of me and my career. For an internship in the field that I’m currently in (the non-profit sector) had only a budget for one marketing person so I became the dude-of-all-trades, strategizing, designing and writing. I was in my 20s, and so I still had the fire and enthusiasm to go all in, even if it meant burning out.

I do derive joy from design, but because I never went to school for it, it was something I would usually distance myself from because “that’s not my wheel house”. I’ve felt that I’ve dismissed any design work I did. Maybe at the beginning, there was some pride and awe and then, eventually, slowly, it was a lot of pushing it away from me.

After all the design-related events this last week, and moments to ponder about what it means to me, I realize that it actually means a lot. I care about typography, colours, and visual flow. My family was a very creative and visual one. I wouldn’t have the aesthetic sense or language I have, if my family didn’t care about the beauty and being-ness of things.

One question is do I want this to be my career? Nah. Another that comes to mind is how much of it do I bring with me in this next shift?

#writing #design