I thought I had a Eureka moment while eating my dessert this evening. I heard a server speaking to the ice cream scooper guy and instantly thought “they’re flirting! That’s right, they’re flirting and I can write something about it! About the interaction between the male and female species that exceeds being platonic.” I mean, don’t you notice how when the male and female specie (and I am trying to speak from a detached, objective point of view) interact, it ends up being a display of gentle affection, a slight awkwardness in the way the both look, speak, smile and laugh with each other. It’s not exactly disconcerting but rather, unflattering. Why? I’m not quite sure but that was all I thought about. Unflattering.
I figured, I had to be different, after all, everyone claims of their uniqueness simply because individualism is the basis of existence, fine I exaggerate a little, but we pride ourselves on being distinctive from the next, having our own style, speech and train of thought. Back to the drawing board. I sincerely, honestly, came to the conclusion that because I am who I am, whether it makes sense or not is besides the point, I am different. Therefore, I will not be unflattering.
What that means is besides the point but the Eureka moment lead to me taking out my trusty notebook and pen to write down a couple of ideas to write a book. Yes I want to write a book. I tried writing a Chinese one, figuring my degree in East Asian Studies might be able to work its magic. But unfortunately, other than the pathetic 5 lines of an introduction, I have yet to wheedle my way out of trying to capture imagery in the convoluted usage of descriptive words that didn’t quite congeal. I wanted to write about love, about the spicy, dicey business called trying, yes as in attempting, to fall OUT of love because its process depicts pain in bringing out the so-called beauty of love. I believe the reason to my lackluster performance begins with being unable to fall IN love and therefore most regrettably, falling OUT of love also becomes out of the question.
So about the dessert. It didn’t taste as yummy as I remembered but I really like black sesame so it made me happy. I needed some quality time with myself and the awesome Murasaki book I am reading. But reading his book inspires me constantly. Sure, its translated text but the translation doesn’t discount the depth and thought this man put into writing. And so now I have an “idol”, someone I think of emulating but I still need a storyline. I still need something to write because it is the most worthwhile content ever that someone out there might find it interesting enough to read. I don’t need a Harry Potter type phenomenon, just writing because it makes me happy. Writing without worrying of some old lecturer trying to correct my grammatical errors because his authority allows him to do so. After all, it’ll be my book and its demise would only be of my own fault.
And thus I end this post here and now because I have utterly utilized my vocabulary skills for the day. I am open to ideas as to what to write about but I hope I figure it out soon. I probably wouldn’t want to do many of those dessert evenings for fear of gaining back the weight I have gladly lost. Perhaps it’ll be a diary, a memoir of speaking to the self. I have heard that if you can hear yourself speak, you would realize what kind of a person you are. Maybe, this is the beginning of a journey, a search to reconcile the who I am and the who I want to be.
