One night in February 2019, I chanced upon this blog again.
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Anyhow, scrolling through all these posts, few things struck me most. Let me share them here, just so that when I look back at this another 5 years later, I can bask in the mind of 2019 Nicole just like I relived my secondary school self over the past hour.
1. Writing, together with music, has always been my unique form of self-expression.
I have always never been good at talking. Confronting people is one of my worst fears. I fear saying the wrong things, spurting words I never mean, words I cannot take back once they have exit my mouth, all because of a fatal decision in the split second. Writing was a way for my thoughts to have space and breathe - to be able to compose a string of notes, each syllable adding to the rhythm of the sentence, each intonation part of a bar, a stanza, a page, a piece. A lyrical moment in time captured on paper.
Writing to me, has been a deeply cathartic process. Writing gives me the freedom to string the complexities and dualities of the emotions I'm feel right here, right now, into an almost comprehensible form for the world to understand.
More importantly, as I've realised today, writing encapsulates my state of mind I am in right at this moment, as I sit on my chair in my apartment in Central London typing away on my computer at 2am, while an outstanding essay lies behind this browser waiting to be completed. (God knows will I still be sitting at this exact same spot when I scroll past this post 5 years later.) Every day I face a different state of mind, but only this one comes to surface as I try to discern them into words, and only this one matters, now. I guess you could call this a way for me to crystallise all that I am here, and immortalise it in a digital snowglobe.
2. I have always been, and am still deeply fond of the arts.
Even after moving to London, I have found that, the arts, whether in visual, audio or tactical form will always be something close to my heart. Just few days ago, I finally dragged myself out of the house to head to the National Gallery for a solo museum trip. I never regretted it. Immersing myself in the inspiring creativity and longevity of these great artists, musing about life and what makes it a life worth living, I saw with my own eyes the magic of the human brain captured in these paintings.
It is extremely reassuring and incredibly uplifting to read my old musings on what my craft meant to me, and how despite this passion for the humanities has shifted in form, the underlying intuitive attraction, craving and emotive power for the very same things I had sought comfort in has never changed. These things were, and still are my way of escaping the world, entering a new realm of reality where past, present and future are blurred.
If there is anything in this world I would hold on to, it would be this unwavering love and deep-rooted passion for the arts that I would never, give up. Few things can be said with such certainty. This is one of those things.
3. Life, is funny in all that it offers.
In the span of time I was gone from this blog, I have seen so much more of the world (and more I have yet to discover is still waiting ahead for me). Perhaps this is a good place for me to slowly document my growth over the years, as I tread through the forest of life.
When you go through the motions of your daily routine, every day seems like a page waiting to be filled and gingerly turned. The unfolding of events with every second and minute and hour envelops you there and then, like an imposing wave looming over the flat, anticipating seashore. But as with hindsight, these things become nothing more than a speck on ink on a page filled with thousands of ink markings. One thread in a ball of yarn intertwined over and over, one petal in a garden overflowing with flowers.
That is not to say, I should disregard every emotion I am feeling currently, because it will eventually amount to nothing. I don't have to invalidate my thoughts, just to make space for the 'better', more optimistic thoughts that are more presentable to the outside world. Looking back at the things that made me wistful, the things that created a painful pang inside me, the things that make me just want to shout to the world how blissful I feel... and I could keep going on...
What I'm trying to say (to myself) is that you are the sum of everything you've been through thus far. Just like the conditions needed to sustain every human life on earth are so incredibly specific and fragile, yet it somehow works out. Likewise, choosing to alter one small bit of who I was would never get me to who I am today. Like a flower that thrives and blooms in adversity, I too am an aggregate of all that i have gone through since I came out of my mother's womb and had a conscious mind to put two and two together - and I would not want this any other way.
I quote something from this 16-year-old wisdom of mine that struck me so hard, "The things that matter are felt, not touched."
Indeed, my resolution for the rest of this year would be to do more of what makes me happy. Not just a vacuous or flighty kind of happiness, but a deep set fulfilment that emanates warmth from within, like the comfort a freshly boiled bowl of goji berry soup provides on a cold winter night. To do more of what makes me feel thankful for everything I am, and that is to write more, read more and never lose touch with my one true love - the arts.
Lastly, I hope for myself to never give up that last speck of beautiful innocence I had when I drafted those posts 5 years ago. To be surrounded by earthly elements that bound you to its glittery and glassy glamour, yet being able to look past that, and dig deeper to find what truly brings meaning.
I remember laying in bed back home, lights off, quitely typing away on my new iPhone in a hurry to publish my post then. Tonight, I sit in the middle of my room, huddled in a grey Superdry hoodie, music playing away on my red speakers, heaters on, typing away before I catch some sleep. Tomorrow, I may be sitting in a cafe, sipping on a cup of tea (I don't drink coffee!), scrolling on my computer and chancing upon this repository of me. There are so many possibilities.
Life is good, in what you make out of it, indeed.
