Dearest readers,
I’m back from the dead! Sorry for the morbid language. But really, truly, I feel resurrected on this Monday morning. A new week ahead that awaits endless possibilities. What new adventures will we embark on? How will we grow? What will we learn? Who will we meet?
As for the radio silence on my end, I blame Mojo the Cat. I blame him for a lot of things, most of all, for ruining my Christmas. Can you believe that I still haven’t opened my presents?! I was trapped in the house in Atherton these past few days, just looking for the cat. Mojo was determined to escape. Granted, it was my fault for not closing the door all the way, and the gusty winds on Christmas Eve blew it open, which proved the cat’s escape route. I ended up finding the cat on Saturday, December 27. Before I went out clubbing at The Patio in Palo Alto, I left the food not outside, but deep inside the house, on the piano in the den. I had a grand old time at the club, dancing my heart out to pop hits. I got home around 3am, and low and behold, my strategy worked! Mojo was hungry so he came back in the house to search for food. Upon reuniting with the rascal, I quickly locked the door shut and played with him for a bit. He actually crawled onto my lap and I scolded him like an angry parent. He scared the living hell out of me (and his owners) and ruined my Christmas. Cat didn’t give a shit, obviously. He wanted to go outside again and was pawing at the door, and I was like, HELL NO. I snapped a couple pictures and videos to send the owners, and the next morning they replied my text, expressing their utter relief.
I went to check on Mojo the next morning, December 28, to make sure he didn’t escape again. I wouldn’t put it past him to try. Well, I searched the living room high and low, and guess what? I COULDN’T FIND HIM! My mind started spiraling again. Could he have escaped a second time? Is there a hidden passageway to the yard that I don’t know about? My relief from the previous night was short-lived, and once again, I was beside myself with worry.
I left some food out in the living room and went on a hike for a couple hours with my family. The hike was both strenuous and marvelous, but the cat consumed my consciousness, taking me out of the present moment. When I got back to the house at 5pm, I saw that the food was uneaten, litter box unused. At that point, I had given up. The cat was probably hiding somewhere, its sleek black fur camouflaged in darkness. It was not my problem anymore, since the owners were coming home that evening, and he would probably wisen up upon hearing their voices and crawl out of his nook. Again, no longer my problem. I spent 3 whole days looking for this mischievous, curious cat named Mojo, and there was no way I could lose him twice. He was in the house somewhere, and I didn’t care where, as long as he eventually came out.
I cleaned the dishes and took out the trash and locked up the house, and then it was off to dinner with Austin and Dr. Chow, my former boss and SAT English tutor. We had an enlightening conversation about Enneagram types— I’m a 4 and 3 (look it up— the test seems pretty accurate).
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And now it is Monday, December 29, and I’m currently on my way to acupuncture treatment. I appreciate the free treatment from our dear family friend, Auntie Mickey, even though the whole process of acupuncture is a bit of a production and eats up 2.5 hrs of my day (we have to commute to SF). Dad is silent as usual while driving me; we don’t talk much. But his love is still deeply felt, though instrumental and financial support.
I was reflecting last night on my whole experience in Atherton. This is what I wrote in my journal:
it’s nice to be back home in my own bed there’s nothing quite so comforting… i have a psychological attachment to my room it’s where life happens for me. life and sleep and podcasting and writing and reading… the four walls of my room span multitudes. it’s all i need, at least for now. why have a big house in atherton when you can live in a humble abode and spend money doing other things like traveling and taking dance lessons and bask in new experiences? no, i tried living in a big house in atherton, i lived out that dream, i don’t need that level of wealth in my life to be happy. i am very happy right now, at 27. this could very well be my golden era… i’d die happy if i could keep living like this, well maybe not in my parent’s home but on my own, independent, living humbly but happily.
While it was a nice experience staying in a rich person’s home, I much prefer the four walls of my room. My room is my haven, the place where magic happens. I’m not talking about magic with a man… I’m talking about the worlds I travel while I’m meditating in my bed. The magic I co-create during my podcast interviews with brave, resilient heroes. The haven I find under the sheets when I’m depressed beyond belief. The books I read before I go to sleep. The blogs I write while stationed at my desk, the years I’ve spent working on my memoir, changing the world with my words. I realize that happiness is not measured by the prestige of your zip code, but lies deep in your soul. I could be happy while living in a humble shack. So long as my basic needs are taken care of— food, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, I’ll be happy.
2:06pm
Got a couple hours to kill before teaching my next dance class. After acupuncture, we stopped by this Chinese market to pick up some roasted chicken. I went to the bathroom, and while fiddling with the stubborn door hatch, I cut my finger! It’s like… a pretty decent sized cut on my right pointer. The door took off quite a bit of skin, and I quickly wrapped my finger in layers of paper towel and applied pressure to it the entire car ride home. Now my finger is wrapped in a fat bandage, but this makes typing quite difficult, hence the typo-backspace dance. It reminds me of when I have long acrylic nails on, I can hardly type, it baffles me how people do it. I only get long nails for dance competitions, and the minute it’s over I cut them off with nail clippers, and I feel like my old self.
What to do, what to do? Gotta do some podcast work, continue reading my book, work on the marketing side of the dance app business (we’re almost done with the beta version) and figure out health insurance stuff. Maybe the health insurance stuff should come first, since that is the most pressing matter, with the end of the year approaching. Only 2 more days of Blogmas! I’ve thoroughly enjoyed writing this entire month… do I feel like my writing chops have improved? Eh. It’s the same old thing. But I do derive a lot of fulfillment from concretizing thoughts and feelings into words, and sharing parts of my life with you guys. Okay, time to stop procrastinating on health insurance stuff and I’ll talk to you guys later!
3:44pm
Not been very productive these past 1.5 hours. Finished filming my latest podcast episode that launches tomorrow, doom-scrolled through Instagram, re-watched the videos I’ve saved in my “drafts” folder to see which one to unleash next into the cruel world, drank some boba tea, went to the bathroom a couple times, just boring boring boring. The quiet life is nice but it’s unbecoming… I’m much more about frenetic, hustle-bustle energy, which is why I’m excited to teach in a couple hours at Bay Club Fremont. Might get there earlier to scout out the facility, I’ve been there once before to take a fitness certification training, I could hit a workout before my class. But generally I try to save as much energy as I can before teaching so I can give it my 1000%, and if I have energy left over I can hit 30 minutes of weights. It’s leg day today. Which is good, since I doubt that I can lift a dumbbell with the current state of my bloodied finger. Anyway, time to stop wasting time. Logging off now. Talk to you guys tomorrow!
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