piercings

5 years ago i began this obsession with piercing most of my pinna and a couple of facial orifices: rook, double helix, tragus, nose, triple ear lobe. one time i even considered stretching my ear lobe piercing.

a couple months ago i took out my double helix piercing. my cartilage looks disgustingly distorted now, just as my mother predicted all those moons ago.

a few days ago i took out my rook piercing. this one left only a little indentation.

maybe i’ll just keep my right tragus ring for posterity’s sake.

expunging my piercings shouldn’t mean anything but somehow i feel like it does.

no more “does that hurt?!” i suppose

nye

i just want to focus next year. nothing more, nothing less.

“A lot of times, people don’t know what they want until you show it to them”

i’m afraid i know what i want.

i’m grateful for everything that has and hasn’t happened this year, for everyone i have met and have not yet met, for everything i have and have not yet. so much more to do, so many more people to meet. it’s just starting.

42

in the days and weeks leading up to my first full marathon, i was admittedly nervous. this had to mean something. it had to mean that i was prepared, mentally and physically. i even injured my hip two weeks before and only worked in 10km runs (at most) during the weekend. and i had to run it alone.

i woke up at 3.30 last sunday morning. in under 25 minutes flat i had brushed my teeth, drunk my coffee, gotten dressed, slapped on sunscreen, wondered where i would chafe and realized i didn’t have vaseline on me, prepared a packet of salt for emergency purposes, strapped on my pouch, wore my shoes and was out the door. i had a Rose apple for breakfast and a half bottle of Pocari sweat.

and then before i knew it, three billion people around me began to run. i had my iPod on for the entire race. i fell in with the 5:15 pacers naturally, and then i stopped for a toilet break at the 10k mark, and then they were gone. i soon found them again at the park, but by the time 24k rolled around, my knees had begun to complain. loudly. and it was at this point i began to thank the founders of Deep Heat. i didn’t care how much analgesic i slapped on to my appendages, but i did because it reacted with sweat and it burned like hell for a good 2 or 3 km so much so that i didn’t even feel the joint pain anymore. at one point i think i felt a little insane, somewhere around 33km. this was where the most analgesic-slapping went on. not just me, everyone else, too. all the sub-sixers.

31-36 was a hellish path. i’d never walked so slow in my life. everything burned, and i lacked human companionship despite the 3 billion people around me. everyone seem ensconced in their own pain and completely unwilling to chit chat. is it just tired marathoners, or the people here in general that don’t like to talk? or was it me? i didn’t care, so i texted my friends who were waiting near the finish something like “KMN”. the pain had begun searing through my back, my quads, my adductors. i was ready to collapse.

If you can’t run, walk. if you can’t walk, crawl. But no matter what, do whatever you have to do to keep moving forward.

two minutes later, i read – blurrily – “GO BOO GO. WE R WAITING 4 U”. so i did. when i began to move up Benjamin Sheares bridge the pain had gone. i didn’t know then if it really had disappeared or if i was just too tired to feel it.

so i ran. and i ran til the finish, where i found my mother and father and friends waiting for me, happily. and then i was done.

honestly, my marathon should have been just that. i should have just run and run ’til the finish, ’til i was done.

but it’s not that easy.

which is why i’m doing it again in six months.

Good enough never is.

oh, and watch for chafing at the groin and underarm area. and if you’re a guy, you might want to slap on vaseline on your nipples. a lot of vaseline.

of second chances

i give people second chances when they fuck up or are especially godawful to me. i choose to look past the error of their ways and i make up excuses for them, assuming “maybe s/he had a bad day, maybe something happened”. up until now, i have never attributed such behaviour to their inherent dickhead personalities. stupid call, i know.

much to my dismay (or relief?), some people don’t want this second chance for some reason or other. they insist on being complete dicks. much to my dismay (or cold amusement?), some people do not have a “best” side.

that’s one less person in the world to be nice to. the glass is half full.

meanwhile, i’m going to give other people second chances because everyone deserves a second chance. not a third, but a second.

that will be my deal from this day on: second chances, not a third.

pictures people whatsapp me

1. bear garden bear
2. coffee cup drawing
3. dog my mother met at a restaurant
4. thinking of me when they were eating this
5. charles river on a fall morning

what i think about when i run

i ran outside this afternoon. i usually run in the evening if i go outside. otherwise, it’s the artificial chill of the gym for me. city brat.

the weather was nice. it wasn’t sunny, neither did it rain. i felt a few drops on my face at one point, but i ignored it and continued.

i had adele’s “turning tables” looping in my head for a good 20 minutes. i felt like a weird machine. if you haven’t heard it, you should – here. it brings me back to a dark place in my life that i have come to peace with. it’s almost like reading or every time i stopped thinking about work or what other people were doing on saturday afternoons. i only met two runners along the way. they were both male. and by “met”, i mean noticed them as they zipped past me. they didn’t notice me. oftentimes, i hate this city for its lack of soul. where does that line lie between not smiling at anyone and stopping to help a severely injured toddler on the road? city brats.

i ran along the main road. the crowd was paved with random people, mostly people waiting for the bus who just look at me like i’m some sort of, well, abnormal person. one fat kid stopped to point at me and said something in vietnamese. or it could’ve been chinese. i don’t know, i’m such a bad asian.

i ran for about four kilometers before i started to feel thirsty. i’d forgotten about the perils of running outdoors in the sun. slap me already. so  i decided to run up the forested hill aka mount faber. bad mistake. i plodded up and plodded back down.

after that i spent the rest of the five or so kilometers thinking about water. obsession can be a terrible thing, especially when you’re dehydrated. no matter which path your mind meanders, all thoughts lead back to good ol’ H2O.

i would worry about humanity and its eventual end later.

recipe: strawberry and rosemary scones

woke up at 8, turned on Food Network, and lo and behold Giada was on, making heart shaped scones filled with strawberry jam. i’m not much of a sweet tooth, but what’s not to love?

Strawberry and Rosemary Scones

Scones:

2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh rosemary leaves
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup strawberry jam
Glaze:
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice, from 1 large lemon
2 cups powdered sugar
1 to 2 tablespoons water
Special equipment: a 3-inch heart-shaped cookie cutter

Directions:
For the scones: Place an oven rack in the middle of the oven. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with a silpat or parchment paper. Set aside.

In the bowl of a food processor, pulse together the flour, sugar, baking powder, rosemary, salt, and butter until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Transfer the mixture to a medium bowl. Gradually stir in the cream until the mixture forms a dough. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough into a 1/2-inch thick, 10-inch circle. Using a 3-inch heart-shaped cookie cutter, cut out heart-shaped pieces of dough and put on the prepared baking sheet. Gently knead together any leftover pieces of dough and roll out to 1/2-inch thick. Cut the dough into more heart shapes and add to the baking sheet. Using an index finger or a small, round measuring spoon, gently make an indentation in the center of each pastry heart. Spoon a heaped 1/2 teaspoon of jam into each indentation. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes or until the edges are golden brown. Transfer the cooked scones onto a wire rack and cool for 30 minutes.

For the glaze: In a medium bowl, mix together the lemon juice and powdered sugar until smooth. Gradually add the water until the mixture is thin enough to spread. Using a spoon, drizzle the glaze over the scones. Let the glaze set for about 30 minutes. Serve or store in an airtight plastic container for 2 days.

Cook’s Note: The dough can also be made by hand by stirring together the flour, sugar, baking powder, rosemary, and salt in a large mixing bowl. Add the butter. Using your fingertips or a pastry blender, work the butter into the flour until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Gradually stir in the cream until the mixture forms a dough.

Photo and recipe: simple girl at home and food network

thanks, steve.

i have posted this quote before, on this blog, somewhere. anyway, everyone and their moms posted it on facebook today via iPhone, iPad, Blackberry, Samsung Galaxy.

but today, more than anything else, i thought of Dr Ralph Steinman and Steve Jobs and the kids in Somalia and the homeless in Japan and the old people at the eldercare center i used to go to and my family and the med student who’s gone missing in Greece and then finally the desperate twentysomethings trying to make it in this world, much as Steve once was. my friends remarked that i looked distressed. mortality drives my anxiety. must run today must book ticket home today must plan experiment today. some days it’s good, some days it’s not. in any case, i move forward. during my runs, the same thing happens: the first 5 are the hardest, then after that, the rhythm easily melds with your body, becomes one, and you stop thinking. running has become the new stationary. and it is this dynamic that i want for the next 10, 20 years of my life.

“Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don’t lose faith. I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle.”

this is for all the twentysomethings reading this blog. may we never settle.

RIP Steve Jobs 1955 – 2011

is everyone hanging out without me?

Teenage girls, please don’t worry about being super popular in high school, or being the best actress in high school, or the best athlete. Not only do people not care about any of that the second you graduate, but when you get older, if you reference your successes in high school too much, it actually makes you look kind of pitiful, like some babbling old Tennessee Williams character with nothing going on in their current life. What I’ve noticed is that no one who was a big star in high school is also a big star later in life, except athletes. For us overlooked kids, it’s so wonderfully fair.

I was never the lead in the play. I don’t think I went to a single party with alcohol at it. No one shared pot with me. It wasn’t until I was sixteen that I even knew marijuana and pot were the same thing.

Because I was largely ignored at school, I watched everyone like an observant weirdo, not unlike Eugene Levy’s character Dr. Allan Pearl, from Waiting for Guffman, who famously “sat next tothe class clown, and studied him. But I did that with everyone. It has helped me so much as a writer you have no idea.

I just want ambitious teenagers to know it is totally fine to be quiet, observant kids. Besides being a delight to your parents, you will find you have plenty of time later to catch up . . . Sit next to the class clown and study him. Then grow up, take everything you learn, and get paid to be a real-life clown, unlike whatever unexciting thing the actual high school class clown is doing now. I think our class clown is doing marketing in Warwick, Connecticut.

- Mindy Kaling, “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)”

about sehnsucht

You have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw—but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported . . . All the things that have deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it—tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest—if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself—you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say ‘Here at last is the thing I was made for.’ We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want . . . which we shall still desire on our deathbeds . . . Your place in heaven will seem to be made for you and you alone, because you were made for it—made for it stitch by stitch as a glove is made for a hand.

CS Lewis, The Problem of Pain.