Iv’e ceased to function creatively. Yeah, June Hollie will probably suck, but it’s still early to be drawing conclusions. I don’t know – it’s not like I haven’t got anything to say – I always do, but I’d much rather feed off of another’s creation, like a lazy suckling piglet. But if that proves to be work, I’ll watch Tangled and listen to old PotterCast episodes from 2005. When you peel back the layers, I’m an 11-year-old nerd with a fantastical fiction problem. My particular brand of adulthood is largely a façade and should never be fully relied upon.
Being a classic escapist doesn’t help. To illustrate, let’s analyze a case I’m currently working on: It’s textbook I’m so SO done with you meets Unyielding blank expression:
ISSDWY (me) vs. UBE (school year)
What’s a girl to do other than silently wage war? Like all of my problems, I move in with plan A: pretend they don’t exist. With school, I’ve tried what I thought would be failsafe solutions: earphones, naps, fro-yo-induced comas…I’ve even mixed a concoction of TED Talks and Facebook inboxes at my desk. I’ve tried expressing myself solely through Instagram. I’ve taken to calling home for lengthy chats on Tuesday mornings instead of Saturday afternoons. All shameless, yet frustratingly ineffective: I’m still working. Incredulous, I continue rise at 6AM, don cardigans – slip into flats, and reproachfully dig whiteboard marker residue out of my nails. I’m weary, defeated; withered. And I’ve realized the only remedy is summer, but that’s not scheduled until July 13th. Please, don’t weep for me. I’m determined to endure my first world problems with unflinching stoicism.
Before I can descend upon Canada’s coast, I must reflect on two years of HK life. I think owe my readership (friends, family, and approximately 8 quasi-strangers) an update on the state of my restless little soul. Right. So, sit back and enjoy the predictable format. You’re lucky you’re not getting a Pixar movie review or a recycled character analysis of Cersei Lannister.
Despite the uninspired void formerly known as my imagination, here’s an optimistic truth: after 7 years together, this has definitely been the best one for Chris and me I (loathe that particular piece of neo-grammar), and for that we thank change. Change does a lot of things to humans: mostly it drives them mad because it’s challenging, but it’s also character revealing. Prophetic, I know.
I’m not saying we, in particular, possess extraordinary character. Really, we’re ordinary – just regular folks, but the mega change in our life, whether natural, gradual or forcibly created, has significantly chiseled away some unwanted fat, both literal and figurative. You know, restricting stuff. Change pushed us off a cliff and let us flail, but after two years of life in the east, we’ve resurfaced as new-ish creatures, except not totally radioactive, although we could be after our trip to Hanoi.
Anyway, a wise one recently reminded me it’s not Hong Kong that’s changing us – it’s just life, and it happens to everyone (no matter their circumstances). She’s absolutely right, but I need to have my Hong Kong-y epiphany because I’m still young enough to be slightly egocentric, and therefore must philosophize exclusively through my own little experiences. And why not enjoy a free feed of creativity, everyone? It’s on me.
Only, you’ll have to wait.
The meat of the bone I’ve thrown you will be served after my kick-boxing class, so hang in there. In the meantime, salivate over my mediocrity and enjoy a reveal of ten ‘How Hong Kong changed me’ subtitles:
- Bouts of patience
- A gram of worldliness
- Chiseled fat
- Lowered expectations: shifts and altercations
- Rude, crude and perhaps understood
- Unspoken words of shut the hell up
- I might be able to do that without crying
- Same, same but different
- I love you but I don’t have to miss you
- Portkeys and warp zones for rolling stones