Hello all, it is me! I actually did it, I said I would post on Thursday and here I am posting Thursday. Lately, I’ve been listening to Mitski and Florence and the Machine and really feeling in to the DRAMA of twenties existence, and the absolute ridiculousness of this time when it can feel like the whole world revolves around you (WHY NOT MEEEE?), yet, at the same time, realizing that the self really is the vehicle to move through life on earth with. The melodrama of the self can be so unbearable, so trivial, so fun, so boring and on and on…
Any who, thanks for being here, enjoy.
—
Prelude: Inspiration is a Practice Pt2
When I can’t write in a way that makes sense, I write poetry & when I can’t piece words together I edit old work & when I can’t deal with words at all, I paint & when I can’t paint, I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.
…Because the thing is, I think I can only create when something is giving way. The only way I can explain it is it’s like when you're playing Jenga and you apply the slightest pressure to the blocks. The first few blocks resist you, but if you're lucky, one gives way and it’s the most delicious feeling ever. In my last newsletter, I discussed inspiration as a practice, and I think this is a part of it, attuning yourself to what is giving way.
I push up against it, and it pushes up against me.
—
Be myself? Which self should I be? And other things I worry about
In my best moments, I marvel at all the versions of myself there are. The dreamy spiritual poet, the academic cultural theorist, the vague and incoherent artist. But often, I worry that I’m not cohesive enough to make sense to other people, and that my expressions are too all over the place. However, I find that in the moments in my life that I have tried to be just one of these selves I would feel stifled, frustrated or bored. The other day I was watching my old video essays back and I was partially embarrassed and partially amazed at this version of myself. Back then, I wanted a thing, something I was known for creating, so I decided that maybe video essays could be it. But, slowly, it felt limiting to only express myself in this particular way. I wanted room to be completely incoherent or deeply vulnerable and the medium allowed room for neither. Now looking back at it (back being like 6 months lmao) I’m really remembering what I loved so much about it and how much work and care it would require to weave together an argument that was fun, academically grounded, meticulous, appealing and accessible.
That being said,
Why I love this space, this newsletter on here and elsewhere, so much is that it feels like the perfect space for my brain. It just makes so much sense to me and I feel so totally free to express myself in ways that I sometimes haven’t before. There are no parameters around what this is supposed to be. So, I am immensely grateful for all of you who have been reading, who have allowed me to feel witnessed. Because one thing about me, is that I always have something to say and I’ve always felt this intense burning desire to express it. Even though the mediums change, and I change as a person, that is a truth that has always stayed the same for me. So, thank you thank you thank you. It means more than you know.
—
&, of course, a poem
I think I’m burning out Or burnt out, my friend said it’s a medical condition and I guess it’s not that serious right now for me. I spent so long running, and now, well I guess I have no energy left I want to curl up into myself and allow the vines to grow over my body Bury myself in the overgrowth. It’s spring, red bulbs bulge from the trees, and things feel layered on thick with desire. It is the feeling that somehow everything is going to be alright (sun on face + lust for life), things were stirring underneath the ground, but now, they are finally ready for me. All I need to do is lay down in the dirt and pour chrysanthemum tea on to the earth and call it an offering… Or perhaps I’m the offering, Well, that’s okay, I’ll give myself over, happily fertilize the earth and, in exchange, I’ll ask to take a peak over the garden wall, I think there I will find that all my heartbreak has transformed into the most fantastic thing. I don’t mean that all the loss would mean something, or be made better, But there, maybe, I would find that version of myself that runs my own hand under cold water and covers the burn in ointment. The version of myself that thinks of new ways to eat the produce in my fridge before it goes bad and watches the raised skin between my thumb and my forefinger heal. Come to think of it, I think she’s here now (or in some-now some-where). Because here’s the thing, no matter how close to the ether she is… She will always somehow burn the granola she makes, but that’s okay because she likes it a little burnt. From time to time, she will think that she’s the worst writer ever but doesn’t let that thought dig itself in because she knows it will eventually pass. She lets herself be boring and unoriginal knowing, ultimately, that she is neither of those things. She grocery shops alone and thinks about how nice that is (though hates the walk back), and when dusk arrives, she gets melancholic, but in a romantic way. She tries to finish work before dinner (often she doesn’t), she drinks the organic wine her friends gift her (because she’s older now), she tries not to smoke weed because it just makes her think about that one thing her first boyfriend said to her when she was 18 and what she would say now to stand up for herself. She doesn’t get mad at winter, though she does yell at the wind when it blows in her face. She thinks about spring and how she is sometimes grateful to live in a place with four seasons because of how her whole soul melts and how the whole city vibrates during the first warm day. She allows herself to not have a 5-year-plan and wonders if her 16-year-old self would be disappointed. But mostly she thinks her 16-year-old self would be relieved, because she realizes that she’s sort of happy now and what a revelation to find that happiness isn’t on the other side of perfect. And for the first time in so long she knows that she’s alright.
—
been playing a lot of wall tennis lately…lost a few balls to the ether.
—
ENOUGH & Prompts
No this isn’t going to me telling you that ~you're enough~.
But that in fact, I think ~enough~ is quite arbitrary and a really funny word.
Enough
Enough
Enough
ENOUGH
ENOUGH
ENOUGH
The drama…
I would write in my journal at 15 (never enough, never enough). I don’t know if it was about myself or about the world.
But lately, lately I had something come up that I feel like was swimming around in my subconscious for a while.
~is what I’m doing enough to get me to where I want to go?~
“go” being dreams, success (of course), and experiences I desire to have in this earthly lifetime.
I was surprised that this was such a prominent thought, and was also surprised that secretly I worried that the answer was no. Then it sort of struck me. Last year, I decided I was over trying to figure out if and how I was wrong. (wrong like enough are meaningless in themselves but continue to hold so much stakes when we let them). I decided that I would just embody someone that felt “right” in themselves…that is when I decided to be #healednothealing. I decided that I was someone who was doing ~it~ right…whatever ~it~ is. I was over trying to find something wrong in myself that needed healing. And now, on this never-ending-spiral-trust-fall I’m on with myself, I decided that maybe, maybe I can decide to embody the version of myself that does enough to meet my dreams in the middle. That I’m already the version doing enough in my half of the co-creation process.
Or, even, be the version of myself that trusts that I will know when and how action needs to be taken. Like feeling wrong, you could search for the rest of your life for all the ways you could work harder or smarter to get you where you want to go (which I assume would be an ever drifting horizon line), or maybe you could remember that the earth is round, that there is no end and that this might just be fine in the grand, mundane journey of ~following you're dreams~
PROMPTS
is there an arbitrary value judgment word that you are giving stakes to? (right, wrong, enough, not enough)
can you be a version of yourself that is better suited to the experience you want to have? (this doesn’t necessarily mean having to feel right or enough, that can be hard, especially when you’ve felt wrong or not enough for a while, it can just be a version of yourself that doesn’t place any stakes on either side of the binary)
—
Video Essay
This is my favourite and least cringey one. I wrote it back in December when I got COVID and was stuck in a hotel room for Christmas with my parents who were lovely enough to stick it out with me. As soon as I watched Don’t Look Up, I knew I had to write it, it just made me so mad! lol I worked really hard on this one! It really made me appreciate all the video essay girlies out there, like it’s a lot of work!
~The Failure of Don’t Look Up: Slow Violence at the End of the World~
—
As always, thanks for tuning in.
-Thai HJ xx
"Why I love this space, this newsletter on here and elsewhere, so much is that it feels like the perfect space for my brain. It just makes so much sense to me and I feel so totally free to express myself in ways that I sometimes haven’t before. There are no parameters around what this is supposed to be."
I think I'm finally understanding this myself, but better yet, participating in this actively. Like a painter brushing away on blank canvas joyfully, whatever comes to their mind. Thank you, once again Thai.