Lingering in Doorways

I am on the cusp of something beautiful. Picture this: I’m standing on the precipice of a mountain, this great rocky terrain I’ve scrambled to scale for years, and now, seemingly without warning, the greener pastures of the other side are finally within view. Just the slightest of nudges and a split-second drop away. And I know I can stick the landing. It reverberates in my gut almost, the giddiness of this anticipation. I love spring! I love the idea of rebirth, a season for starting over. I’ve quite possibly never needed it more.

My March was fleeting. With it came a sort of lightening of chest, a loosening of limbs — I feel more agile somehow, nimble and self-assured. My entire being feels as though it’s been reconfigured, with days run by presence and intention and above all, gratitude. I am so grateful! I mean it, every word. I think my life is so charmed, like lately its softer moments have become infused with an even more infectious, golden sort of energy. I know a part of it (a big part, really) was the weight loss. It seems superficial, but after nearly four years of stubborn pandemic weight gain and a hopeless cycle of trying and giving up, the relief of finally having done it is immense. It’s not just that I look and feel better, but that I’ve accomplished something I’ve struggled with for so long. The confirmation that yes, I can do it, I have done it, and I was capable right from the very beginning. Because my fitness journey took up such a big chunk of my time and mind space, naturally every other thing in my life followed suit — I was eating healthier, prioritizing my rest, and showing up to my cardio-heavy job with an eagerness to perform. And in a way, I feel more like myself than ever before.

In my Notes App, I have a folder titled “2024” (real inventive stuff) and within it are notes of what I expect this year to be like. In the next 3 months alone, I have so much planned (that I won’t disclose here because it’s still technically a surprise) and the ways in which I’d like to achieve those goals. Every day, they and my Pinterest are what keep me focused — as a Capricorn, and as me, I love being driven by hope and ambition. This is how I power through. There’s a restlessness in me that’s only sated by the idea of What If, and the turning of my If into a matter of When, and that When into How Soon. I miss this version of me, the achiever that’s been lying dormant since I turned nineteen, that delights in being woken up by something as simple as a consistent workout routine.

These past two months shed the sluggishness of winter time with ease — I can barely remember who I was in December. They were defined mostly by gym sessions, dad-daughter lunch dates and library trips, workplace shenanigans and high-vibrational music. The soundtrack of this spring, oh my goodness: I’ve been listening to a lot of Chappell Roan, who makes me feel like such an intuitive dancer. I can’t count how many times I’ve played Red Wine Supernova in the shower, or on the scooter ride home, or while cleaning up clothes in my room — I have a feeling it would be the song of my year if I still used Spotify. More recently, I am of course in my The Tortured Poets Department era, and while I’m making my way through the lengthy tracklist I can pick out Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? as the top listen, or maybe I Can Do It With A Broken Heart. I think it’s telling that I gravitate towards the tracks that are poppier and more upbeat, and that the more heartbreaking records are saved for late-night me time. I am completely and utterly happy and do not claim any of that sad heartsick energy, but these songs are just too good that I can’t stop singing them anyway.

Dad and I agree that Civil War is, so far, our top film of the year. We’ve seen a couple together in the movie theatre since the year began (off the top of my head, The Iron Claw, The Boy And The Heron, and Dune 2 were among the best) but this was the one that kept us literally at the edge of our seats, had us glancing at each other mouthing WTF, and made my heart beat so crazy fast in anticipation of the end. It’s not a perfect film by any means but it’s the one that elicited the most memorable real-time reactions out of me, which gives it an A+ in my book. As for the others I mentioned — I cried so hard at The Iron Claw that I emptied the Kleenex box and my head hurt afterward; The Boy and The Heron was dreamy and satisfied my inner child but we sat too close to the screen for comfort; Dune 2 was the cinematic event and was everything I wanted from a blockbuster and more. As a rom-com connoisseur I loved Anyone But You and the throwback to modern Shakespearean rom-coms of the early 2000s (we did Much Ado About Nothing for our 10th grade class play which I helped conceive and direct), and I really liked Challengers but it was also the first movie that my film-buff-but-falls-asleep-five-minutes-in dad asked, midway through, if we should leave (we didn’t). Along with the other films and shows I’ve streamed at home, none of which come to mind right now, this year’s cinematic lineup happily fed this film school dropout.

I wish I was reading more. It’s sad but true — I am, unfortunately, in a slump. I can blame it on work hours and my “packed” schedule all I like but the truth of the matter is, my heart hasn’t been in it. My Kindle has gone uncharged for weeks and even when it is, it’s more often abandoned at the bottom of my tote. I’ve been trying to get back, though — I very recently dusted off my haul from early this year, including Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton, and am starting to make it a bedtime habit to crack open a novel in lieu of taking melatonin. I want to get back into annotating too, because this book in particular has got all these great spouts of wisdom just begging to be underlined. What I crave more than anything is fiction — great fiction. A fantasy preferably, something with morally grey characters and magic. I’m eyeing The Familiar because I’ve loved every Leigh Bardugo work I’ve put my hands on, and this one seems especially new and exciting propped up in our book aisle. I guess we’ll have to see, though — I’ve got too many TBRs already, and I have the unfortunate habit of losing interest as soon as something is officially in my possession.

I realize that I’ve spent the better part of this day writing this entry already (time really does fly when you have much to say) and so I’ll try to wrap things up and return another time. Other things I forgot to mention — I’ve spent so much money on clothing and coffee this month, but what’s new, really? The first time I bought from Brandy Melville, so much that it came in a huge box with two dozen stickers, I could not hold in my excitement. Brandy Melville, to thirteen-year-old me living in Asia, was peak fashion — I could only dream of affording it, and now it takes up roughly half of my daily wardrobe. It seems silly to even mention this here, but what I mean by this is that a part of why my life feels so charmed is I have access to things I once longed for, and thus I now live the life I once longed for. I’ve gone from rationing my lunch money to purchasing AirPods Max on a whim, which is an insane, insane feeling. I by no means have won at life, and the reason I can do these things is because I have a lot of free time, no school requirements, and no bills to pay. That will change soon, I know. But for now I’m living the dream, and I intend to cherish it as much as I still can, drinking overpriced chais and buying stupid things and making the most of this era before reality inevitably sets in.

And finally — the big thing. I miss my grandparents. I miss them even more that they’re both sick — both of them, if you can believe it, with their endless marathon of doctor check-ups and biopsies and sudden midnight ER trips. They were just here in California in February, where they spent a few months looking the very picture of health, but since going home have suddenly been riddled by all these mysterious sicknesses that seem as though they’ve appeared out of nowhere. I won’t get into it much — no one likes a downer, and I’m sure the sudden mood change feels like whiplash. But I have to include it because even as I am enjoying my life here, there is always that sad, underlying feeling that still, I would rather be taking care of them, that I would give it all up in a heartbeat to be laughing with them worry-free over dinner back home. I miss my mom, and living under her roof, and would still rather be steadily putting on pounds eating her food. My mom, who is having her own health issues too, who is getting older and will have another birthday in a few days that I will miss. I miss my grandma, and the talks we’d have sitting on her bed, the cats she’d always have lounging within her perimeter. I miss my friends, and my love, and the stories we made together. I love who I am now but I miss who I was.

I wish I was as good a communicator to the people in my life as I am through these little blog posts. I’m sorry that I haven’t been as present. If you’ve reached the end of this post, thank you for giving me a few minutes of your precious time — I hope I made it worthwhile. This is the first official entry I’m writing for this new blog — if you’ve seen my previous WordPress, isn’t this so much cuter? — and I’d love to make this a regular thing, but as always, you never know with me. I’ve got a mailing list if you’re interested though. For now, adiós, goodbye, I’ll see you soon.