an ordinary day

It's been a day of small pleasures: waking up to a delightful text message exchange, engaging threads on my college friends' mailing list about personal finances and Chinese parenting (the former not related to the latter), productive meetings at work, making a near-perfect cup of coffee, a happy hour where my coworkers and I stayed for the entire 2 hours because of the interesting conversations we were having (rather than the usual awkward silences, staring at the TV, and leaving as soon as we could do so without being rude to each other), a fun class with good training in the evening, and last but definitely not least, a delicious dinner with wonderful and amazing friends.

I couldn't tell you that anything extraordinary happened today - a lot of these things have happened before and probably will happen again (I hope). But when all of these small and seemingly inconsequential events all align within a single day and keep the smile on my face going through every minute of it, I can't help but take notice and feel extremely blessed and grateful to every single person who touched my life today.

It was an ordinary day of the rarest kind.

remember

In times of unbearable pain, remember the moments of relief.
In times of insurmountable turmoil, remember the moments of stillness.
In times of overwhelming darkness, remember the moments of light.

In times of pain, turmoil, and darkness...
remember the moments like this.

dealing

Among the various activities I've been taking on to simultaneously numb myself and fill up the space, I finally got around to reading The Name of the Wind.* Actually, I guess I really only started a couple days ago, but as of last night I'm already 500 or so pages into it - so obviously, I highly recommend it to anyone looking for good fiction.

The following passage has stuck to my mind since. I started writing a long, reflective post about it, but it's coming out all wrong right now, so we'll have to make do with just the passage itself for now.

Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.

First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.

Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying 'time heals all wounds' is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.

Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.

Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.

* Thanks to X for lending me the book almost a year ago and for persistently reminding me to read it, and to J for bringing it up recently so that I felt compelled to actually do so.

consequences

"I think horrible is still coming. Right now, it's worse... I can't breathe, Will. I feel like I can't breathe."

It's kind of funny. You spend every day telling yourself that it's hopeless, that it's never going to happen. You get completely used to the idea that you have no chance and never will. So when those words are actually spoken to you, they simply come and fill up the space that you've already carved for them.

Meanwhile, you completely forget to prepare for the part that always follows: the part where you lose your dearest friend. You spend all that time making space for the rejection that you don't prepare - you can't prepare - for having a piece of you ripped away, just like that. And despite knowing all along that this was the only way things could have possibly turned out, you were completely unprepared for it, and now you're left, staggering and gasping for air.

it's simple, really

The reason video games are so appealing to so many people is because in a video game, if you work hard, you will get what you want. No matter how ambitious the goal, how high you set your sights for a reward, attaining it is possible for everyone. Farm enough gold, earn enough experience points, drop that mob enough times, and you will eventually be able to get that item that you want.

In a video game, nothing is unattainable. There isn't any one thing that you can't have, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much blood, sweat, and tears you put towards it. In the end, as long as you keep pumping those numbers, victory can and shall be yours.

In a video game, you never have to deal with never.

same old things

The parallels are so striking. Almost creepy.

It's just like that time, the way it snuck up on you like that - caught you so off guard that by the time you noticed, it was too late. But without the snow. Or the skates.

Same feeling, different time, different place, different people. Kundera says that the gestures we use are far more unique than we are - the same could be said for our thoughts and emotions as well. We are merely their bearers, their incarnations.

I don't own emotion - I rent.

Same feeling, different time, different place, different people. But I'm better this time. I won't screw it up.

Not as badly.

This is how it works: you repeat the same mistakes over and over again and just hope that you'll get a little better each time. Then one day, when the little betters add up to good enough, you can start to break the pattern.

Or you get so good at repeating the pattern so perfectly that you don't notice the difference anymore.

since it's almost thanksgiving

this is not the last snowfall, not our last embrace
but if i were that kind of grateful, what would i try to say?
- v

So much going through my head these days, or as a friend might put it, "The hamster's been working overtime." A whole lot of thrashing, a whole lot of looking inside and outside, and surprisingly, a whole lot of discoveries too.

Life has been so incredibly good lately, and it feels a little bit weird to be so close to equilibrium once again - especially considering the state S left me in just a little more than a year ago. I keep telling myself that one day, I'm going to look back at this past year as one of the best years of my life. But perhaps it is because of this that I am so wary. What happens after this year is done? I have a saying that every bit of happiness in my life must be paid for in tenfold - no, a hundredfold - the amount in pain... because thus far it's been true.

So I spend a lot of time and energy looking around the next corner, waiting for the other boot to fall. I wonder how long my luck is going to last, when I'm going to royally fuck it all up again like I have all the other times before. Because if history's any indication, right about now is usually when something happens to knock me completely off balance once again.

But something is different this time. More than ever before, I am learning to remain grateful. And so far it's helped me stay on my feet. I am learning to say, "If this is all I'm ever going to get, then so be it." Or, to quote one of my favorite movie lines of all time, "Enough. Enough now."

So I'm learning, bit by bit. I'm learning to see what it is I have and not what it is I want.* To be content with what I'm given, so that anything more that comes along is a pleasant surprise. And so far, the surprises have been many, which on the one hand is awesome, but on the other hand makes the task of keeping my expectations in check that much more challenging.

All in all, it's a slow process, but at least being grateful is easy. I've more or less been lifted from the depths of what felt like hell thanks to the collective grace of all the people who have touched my life this year. From the ones who were there to keep me together to the ones who listened to (or, in some cases, read) my story, to the people who bring so much joy and meaning to my life today... it's truly thanks to all of them that I can say that life is better now than it's ever been.

Which isn't to say that I'm happy right now (damn, this guy's hard to please). I continue to struggle with my ever-present doubts, with some feelings that make no sense to me at all, with curbing my enthusiasm for people and keeping my expectations within reason, and with the occasional visits from my old friend and archnemesis. The ups and the downs continue on, but such is life, as they say. Besides, lately the ups have been totally, totally worth it.

I'm starting to think that happiness is overrated anyway, or at least, it's not something that you can find and then keep.*** But for now, I am content, and perhaps that's even more important than being happy. At least I try to convince myself of this, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. But I definitely do not take for granted nor lightly the many wonderful moments I'm given these days after which I find myself saying, "Enough. Enough now."


* I'm also learning to just ask for what I want rather than hope others will magically know. I partly have The Tower** to thank for this. For what it's worth, the one time I tried this worked brilliantly.

** Now I just have to figure out how to need not to need... to be needed.

*** Or maybe I just lack the ability to do so. That, or I simply haven't found it yet.