The State of Nats #3: It continues
[Week of May 25, 2025]
I recommend 50 ways to leave your lover by Paul Simon in the background
Data
Flat white coffees: 2
Eggs eaten: 0
Books: 0 Pages read: 40: S(0) M(0) T(17) W(0) T(0) F(23) S(0)
Chicken in meals: 4
Cafe locations: 2 old timers visited twice each, 1 cakery
Momos eaten: 11 pieces
Life
I have been confused if I am tired or lazy.
It is interesting, the act of reflecting life here. I feel so inconsequential, and yet when I sit down to it, I find my routine life very precious. Maybe this is why I am drawn to works of art that carefully showcase the beauty in ordinary lives. With the right people, in the right ways to spend time, it could be extraordinary. Maybe not. Ask me in 30 years.
On a consequential morning, I witnessed a scene that looked like it was captured from a nature documentary. It was cloudy with signs of rainfall. I was at a government building which I cannot name or locate on a map. My suffering in wandering around a government complex was minimal due to the improved weather. I came across an unattended child. Bare bottommed and smiling face, I watched the child wander the same courtyard where I was. He was perhaps no bigger than 3 years old, or was she 2 years old? I do not have the talent to guess a child's age by merely looking at them. I opted to believe that the mother was close enough and the child, one in a government complex, would certainly not be lost. I walked. The baby/child walked. And then came three dogs. Two of them continued to behave as we expect dogs to, sweet enough and eager to please. They were prancing, jolly. One dog however, who originally was frolicking with his two mates saw the baby by themselves. Suddenly, with no prompting from me or the baby, that dog changed its posture. The dog lowered its gaze and stance and started moving towards the baby, teeth bared, growling. In moments, two feet became inches. I waited for my instinct to kick in, "save the child". It felt inadequate. Confusion was prominent. But my reliable vocal cords felt warmer. I screamed at the dog, finger pointing, shaking, an enraged look in my eyes. I was an ape, I was a mother, I was a queen! I had braced myself for an attack, expecting his attention to shift to me in revenge for taking away his... breakfast? He looked at me and bounced back, acknowledging the alpha in me. Everyone dispersed and the courtyard returned to its normalcy. My partner Ru got his learner's license, the baby was safe, the mother still missing, the dogs left us alone, everything was well.
I told my friend Sm in the most complex way that I could help her if she accidentally killed her spouse. I was only trying to show her my support to present a fake alibi to the police. I think she is still reeling from my projected image of such an "oopsie" from her.
The app How We Feel, I have slowed down on it. This is unsurprising as I have been feeling alright. I am busy, I am motivated, and my emotional recollection is often non-existent when I am feeling even slightly better than alright.
My hair needs oiling. I have not oiled it yet.
Took my parents out for drinking with Ru, and we all got tipsy. I think my father is enjoying the freedom of finding drinking buddies in his children, old and new, the back to back ordering of beer jugs and "cheers" between him and Ru. He was also indulging in a lot of chilli chicken and I think that contributed to 50% of his happiness.
Writing for Nerds cohort, an online group activity for 4 weeks, is what I have joined to be kind to my future-writer-self. Here everyday we have tasks related to developing the writing muscle and we are to spend 15 minutes to do them. I began the week with enthusiasm and energy, but it dissipated away as the weekend drew closer. I am now setting sights on tomorrow's agenda, a new hope for new energy.
The week led me to this piece that I have revisited many times.
I asked a friend a simple question about happiness and got an abrupt reaction. We recovered soon but I have pondered since, how do we go from a new friendship, a warm friendship to a loving friendship without going back and forth on boundaries?
My friend Noo went off the grid for a few days, and I held back the urge to think of worst case scenarios and reprimanding her in any way for being unreachable. I managed my anxiety, I did not feed my fear, and she had a lovely time.
By Saturday I was mentally depleted, and did not have a single original thought. I could not even decide on what movie to watch.
I am feeling a new discomfort at revisiting my history, to see it in jokes or hear it mentioned to a person I meet. Ru said some lovely words to me about our histories and blame, on how subconsciously people will try to find a responsibility or rationale in the person who stayed, in the person who took the hurt. And he said, "Don't let that win."
You just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don't need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Oh, you hop on the bus, Gus
You don't need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free
- 50 ways to leave your loves, from Paul Simon (1976)
On writing itself
I am finding it bizarre to start my weekly recollection from a Sunday. I have never treated a week to be anything other than starting at Monday morning and ending on Sunday night. And this look is not fitting into my mode of reflection. This change is feeling like wearing another skin. It is a crisis of structure. It has to be challenged
This week, for the first time in a long time, I got my first organic feedback from a stranger on the internet on a piece I wrote in More Hot Sauce. I love love and love the love I get from friends and family but it is a whole different feeling to have that validation from a stranger. The internet can be a ruthless place, ignoring most individuals who pour their desires on Tumblr or journals on Substack. Sometimes a person shares the right link to a receiving friend, and they pass on to another, and you get a comment that feels like finding a gold nugget on a forest floor. She found my words relatable. It felt like getting wind in the sails of a boat standstill; You catch the draft, get swept up in the wind and you sail further into the sea.
It also stands to be true that I clearly do not trust a word my friends and well wishers say. I blame everybody for this, I have no spine. I blame sad love songs. I blame The National. I blame the lack of movies on friendships. I blame the unreliable fortune tellers. I blame my parents for not giving me a dog when I was young.
I cannot get over the fact that most sentences I write here begin with "I". I must make my agenda for next week to pursue alternate sentence structures.
Culture consumption
The two books I have nursed this week are The God of Small Things and The Phantom Plague. Through the entire week I easily put them down to pursue television.
Rh capitalised on a night I was deeply exhausted, and continually said "watch Ginny and Georgia watch Ginny and Georgia why won't you watch Ginny and Georgia just tell me if you are never going to watch Ginny and Georgia" so I watched Ginny and Georgia. I can see that I am at the age bracket where the teenage drama does not appeal to me, and I fast forward those scenes to get to any of the other characters. Overall it has been pleasant so far and I am eager to see why Rh likes it as much as she does.
My currently reading shelf stands at a whooping 18 books. Someone shame me for this, come on.
May you get quality sleep and a flying kiss that makes you smile,
Nats