Taking stock, 2020

In holding my breath I have learnt that I can hold my ground. I used to think of myself as a panicked, flailing kind of person. I’ve learnt that I’m a lot calmer than I realise. I think of myself, holding my breath, staring at the ceiling, trying to see how far I can count until my chest burns, or my vision blurs. I just lie there, not gasping, perfectly at peace. Partly because of this, I know that if need be, whatever else life throws at me, more often than not, all I’ll ever have to do is hold my breath, and lie perfectly still until it passes. Continue reading Taking stock, 2020

“I will condemn you to a fate far worse than death.”

Meditation on (the catharsis) of violence and punishment/(as) justice.  Klaus, The Originals, has uttered variations of this title numerous times.  I think I, like a lot of people, are drawn to powerful characters because there’s so much that is out of our control in our daily lives. So many indignities and violences that we can’t do anything about. So a character like Klaus provides that … Continue reading “I will condemn you to a fate far worse than death.”

Isn’t that how love works sometimes?

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about community. In little blocks. Lately, it’s been a building block of community— friendship and trust. The cyclical nature of friendship and trust. How trust is implicit in building a friendship and later in maintaining it. It’s almost like, the earning of trust is beside the point, giving it is where it’s at. I don’t know, there’s an earnestness … Continue reading Isn’t that how love works sometimes?

Rest in kindness Naphtaly.

I oscillate between an arrogance about my survival and a debilitating awareness of my life’s precariousness. It’s increasingly more of the former now. A year ago, it was only the latter. At my most precarious, I ended up isolated in a hospital room, immunocompromised and on the verge of malnutrition. I’d barely eaten in three weeks and by this point, I couldn’t keep food down … Continue reading Rest in kindness Naphtaly.

Do not marry a politician and other kitchen table things.

For Catapult, I wrote about our mothers, the terrible marriages they are in and the things they tell us bout surviving those marriages. “I wondered if part of surviving your husband’s betrayal is assuming that of all the women, you had to have been the smartest; you had to have been the one he was most honest with when it came to money; that you’re … Continue reading Do not marry a politician and other kitchen table things.

Heartbreak is the only way these things make sense.

I’ve always thought I’d die young.  For most of my childhood, it was an unexamined thought sitting in my subconscious, quietly accepted, yet to be complicated with the arrogance and hysteria of young adulthood. I had no concept of “gone too soon”; unaware of my potential, untainted by ambition; not jaded by hope and dreams. I read Bridge to Terabithia and thought, “that makes sense.” … Continue reading Heartbreak is the only way these things make sense.