planetarity thoughts

My dearest, John,

“These are the times that try men’s souls.”

Thomas Paine wrote this as the opening sentence to his pamphlet series dedicated to inspiring troops of The American Revolution. Feel free to make any “USA” jokes about the fact that I quoted an American political activist/philosopher; this one’s on me. But it’s been on my mind ever since 612, because it’s true and applicable. Unexpectedly, gut-wrenchingly real.

These are, indeed, times that try our souls. These are times that I never thought would belong to our history. Yet here they are, ready to become a wikipedia page.

I do not know what will happen between the time I write this letter and when it finally reaches on your desk. I was about to speculate on some possibilities, but I found myself hesitant; I do not want to imagine any sort of outcomes. Almost every week, something gets worse. The body of our city is rotting. Our homes, both past and present ones, are marked with blood and tear gas. What happens in the future is ever so elusive, but even more so right now. 

I’m aware that we will, eventually, be okay. We have to be, no matter what the manifestation of that word may be. But what of our city? South Koreans protested for over four months before successfully impeaching their president. Will we be able to last that long? Will we have the right, the chance, and the strength to carry on? Will we make an impact strong enough to rattle the foundation of a country, if not change something about our government too?

I hope the answer is “yes.” These are times that try our souls, and there are things that we can’t control. But whether we break under these trials is up to us, I suppose.

Despite all of my crying and wistful words, I know I don’t fully understand what it is like to be in Hong Kong right now. I’m sorry for our fights. I know you care about me, but that also have a lot on your plate right now.

I hate that I can’t immediately be there for you or my family. I hate that the first thought I have almost every morning is whether something has happened again. I hate that I breathed a sigh of relief when I learned that you were almost tear-gassed instead of being chased down by the police. How fucked up is that?

I miss you terribly, and I can’t quite believe I decided to write you a letter as if you are at war and I’m your distraught, powerless, homebound girlfriend.

Well. Parts of that are accurate. I’m laughing as I draft this letter.

Let’s try harder together, okay?

With love,

I see planes fly past my window, sliding right above the skyline. I hear their mechanical roars as they soar above my building, whistling, as I lay in bed at night. they always remind me of you, and recently i realized that one of them will bring you over to me

the bubble tea at the tian ren in Chinatown is HK milk tea. that feels like home.

the libraries, specifically the Queens Library branch near my place. I go there roughly four times a month

sunsets behind the red brick buildings and fire escapes in my typical view of new york neighbourhoods. it’s romantic, i think. you’ll see

Family. A lot closer than paternal family. We have fun during family gatherings, discovered that I have a lot to talk about with my youngest cousin. Will always have a cultural difference, but this is good

i’m closer to my family here than with my paternal side. i’m learning more about my oldest aunt, which is nice, because we weren’t very close. i found out that i can talk comics with my oldest cousin, which is older than me by 20 years, and talk kpop with my youngest cousin, who is 7 years younger than me

Heating yes

Finally being able to see what I get myself into when I chose to pursue publishing as an idealist undergrad

really good char siu actually? cause the pork is really good? i’m sure I might not want to know the reason why, but yes. char siu is yummy here

I!!! have!!! my!!! own!!! room!! again!!!!

i have an excuse to daydream about you all the time because you’re literally not here

:DD

I didn’t think to get you a valentine’s day card, which is why i’m sending this along with your birthday card haha, but i really like this one so yes hi happy belated valentine’s day, darling

Birthday Card

Although you say one of the reasons why you don’t like books is because they require the murder of a tree...I can still blame the death of this tree on you because your amazing existence definitely needs to be celebrated...with the help of a card :DD

Happy birthday, darling. I hope someday I’d be able to spend your birthday with you, preferably when it’s your actual birthday.

Below lies a sketch replica of the NBA gift card I got you so you can go to the NBA store right opposite of my school and get something to do with the Celtics.

since it’s almost 2019 and I’ll update the header soon...here are the ‘projects’ i gave myself for 2018

...that I am special, and that I have something to offer to the internships I am applying to.

this is one of the most difficult things for me to achieve. I don’t like to think that I am above mediocrity, even though I want to be. I just find it easier to accept that I can sometimes achieve more than I thought I can than under-achieving all the time.

what are the things that I should be proud of?

I’m good at close reading. so many of my teachers comment on this

somewhat creative, with both fiction and perhaps interpretations of texts

I can use photoshop lmao

I’m inclined to be kind

I’m sincere

I used to be good

and I seemed so inspired by things? even though I know I still couldn’t just conjure up stories, histories, or characters like some other people can...but I was at least inspired and motivated to do something about my ideas...

(starting a month ahead....this should be a record)

you know sometimes I have trouble falling asleep. a lot of times, though, I have trouble with going to sleep. it’s a very Eugenia problem because I know exactly why I don’t want to go to sleep: it means another day has passed, and time is moving forward. I might be unsatisfied with what I managed to accomplish on that day, or I have things I didn’t get to do during the day because I was trying so hard to finish other things. either way, it’s procrastination, it’s avoidance, it’s very Me.

whenever I stay up a little bit too late for no apparent reason I like to sit on my bed and write. I did it a lot while I was in Glasgow, when the deadlines were getting crazy and I was scared out of my mind of not being able to deliver final essays or my dissertation. I stay up, and I write that I am once again, ‘in a liminal space.’ this idea was semi-inspired by something a figure skater I follow on Twitter (blame YOI) tweeted last year. he said that the ice rink at 6 in the morning, ice quiet and paved without a fault, is a sort of liminal space. it seems to exist on its own plain, a blurry of time, a slither away from reality. well, my liminal space is a bit more literal.

I try not to look at the time before I start writing. an instance of self-deception this time: if I don’t know what time it is, who knows if it’s still today, or tomorrow, or even yesterday?

once I start writing, I pretend I am in a liminal space. I might not write about anything with substance at all. out of the many many entries I penned while in my liminal space, most of them were about the fears I have about my assignments and tomorrow and not much else. sometimes they include a plan of action, but of the time? it’s just worry etched on paper.

I’m type 9, wing 1. i don’t like possessing the negative traits type 6 exhibits, which is the type i will disintegrate into. i want to possess the good in type 3s.

i subscribed to the enneagram institute’s ‘EnneaThought® for the Day’ newsletter two days ago and i think it was a good decision. you choose two types on the enneagram to receive their corresponding ‘EnneaThought’ every day. I chose type 9 and type 1 because type 9 is my main type, and type 1 because i realized i exhibit characteristics of type 1 more often than i think. both will certainly serve to enlighten me a little about the way i think.

the first email i received was about basic fears, which is more than appropriate for me because i’ve always told people that if my brain worked like Inside Out, the emotions that would be at the helm of my thoughts are Fear and Sadness, hugging each other and screaming while Joy tries to comfort them. My basic fear as type 9 is ‘losing your world, of being disconnected, cut off from everything,’ and type 1 is ‘being bad, corrupt, unredeemable, condemnable, chaotic.’

both are incredibly true.

(...this was my fourth attempt at writing this letter)

quality stationery that isn’t bic pens or sharpies. Clear fucking folders. A4 sized paper

fake siu mai. hong fok tong. MK street food. cheap but fresh sushi

seeing water outside my window. even my dorm in Glasgow overlooked River Clyde. when I looked out the window, and over the dark river, I’d see the headquarters of BBC Scotland and the Science center in the distance, changing colors from red, to green, to blue...to red, to green, to blue

having a home that’s away from the city

small streets. I don’t know why and I know I shouldn’t

being able to just look out to the promenade and recall the night we got back together. it was another instance of ‘deliberate ease,’ i now realize, how I decided to lean in without a word, faking nonchalance when I had to tell myself to kiss you three times before I did it. with what might have seemed to be determination, but was actually just nervousness, I kept my eyes on your lips as I closed into your space. your breath caught, your mouth fell open. I kissed you, soft and quick. it surprised me a little, that I remembered exactly how to do it, and that our lips slotted together so easily as though they were magnets. 

ATMs in MTR stations so I’m not always out of cash

MTR, obviously

okay, let’s be honest, virtually all public transportation. 681. 89D. death-minibus, 810. THE FERRY.

having distinct memories that are connected to certain places. like how Sha Tin has always been a place from my childhood. my family doctor was there. I got Morph from the Disney store that’s now gone. Snoopy world, even though I was never that fond of snoopy. it’s also where we found out we liked each other, and where we kissed (very awkwardly) for the first time. it was your space, and you let me in.

my parents. my mom’s stupid jokes, my dad’s smile.

summer. or rather, summer holidays. less guilt, less pressure. I can go swimming. spend hours and days with you. 

familiarity, of course. I grew up in hong kong, even if I don’t speak or act like I did sometimes.

did I mention you already?

black white milk

 ...is the list i set out to write, but like your first letter to me...nothing i put on the list felt like they accurately portrayed what i was feeling. i had a lot of trouble with this letter, which is why you haven’t gotten a letter from me in a month. despite having outlined what i wanted to put on this list as i was writing letter three, i couldn’t figure out why making a list didn’t feel right. the obvious reason is, of course, that home is a big concept for me right now. although I tried to narrow that down to specific things i miss about home, they all sounded trivial (stationery, siu mai, MTR) or abstract (seeing water outside my home, small streets, summer) when i wrote them down.

i also wanted to make this letter a more ‘light-hearted’ and ‘simple’ letter after two ‘heavy’ ones. what a topic to choose to be light about. perhaps this was a defense mechanism; if i could put my longings into clear little bullet points then i could try to look at them objectively instead of only swirling them around in my head.

the link, in case you were wondering, between my last letter to you and this one, is the statement, “you and my home are inextricably linked.” the concept for this letter, therefore, is simple: missing you is missing home, and missing home is missing you. they’ve essentially become the same type of feeling, which is why one of the things i want to talk about is that you have successfully become part of my experience of Hong Kong.

I told you you’d never keep up with my pace. Sorry darling :D

I love your letter if you don’t mind me telling you again. I think about it and can’t help but smile. The words that made me collapse onto your chest on the night you first said them four years ago still hold the same power today. I’m also very honored that you used what I assume to be your infamous light blue pen? the one you somehow used in your exam and your university exam board didn’t automatically fail you?

I think I recall you telling me about ‘the sum of parts’ before, but I don’t remember what my response was. And what’s my ‘can’t argue, don’t argue’ face?? you have to describe it to me now!

When I told you I received your letter you were so on point about sharing my views on writing letters that I feel somewhat embarrassed about my last letter to you. We were already on the same page so i didn’t need to go all meta about the entire thing. I’m glad you still liked it though and knowing that you know exactly how I feel and want to achieve the same thing is, um, heartwarming.

For my lack of a ‘smooth’ transition from my response to your letter and whatever i planned for this letter...here’s a sticker.

I hope my last letter to you gave you a good sample of how I’ve been feeling lately. I’m stupidly in love with you and it’s 100% your fault, so frankly, you deserve these letters.

After I mailed your last letter I immediately wanted to write this one...so I did; this opening (and some bits down below) was written on the 25th of September.

I planned this letter to be more of an impromptu rambling letter, which I now realize is quite oxymoronic. Perhaps I am disregarding the fun in snail mail by planning these letters in advance. There is this rush of spontaneity after you receive and read a letter, one that compels you to either write back or thank the person who wrote to you. I haven’t even received your first letter to me yet, but I already keep a list of what I want to write to you. My desire to write you letters must originate from somewhere else.

Of course, I still long to read your letters. I reread the ones you wrote me when we first dated from time to time. As you said to me the night you received my second letter, holding one from you makes me feel like almost nothing else matters as well. To have you in writing when you’re not here is, and will be, much treasured.

But I also want to give you stories, stories that are loosely linked together. Stories that are structured into holding more significance and written on paper so they’ll last longer. I have so much to say to you in ink and scrawling, things that are undoubtedly too embarrassing and too...much to tell you in person. 

look at the few photos we took together periodically, even when i’m on the subway and i can’t help but smile at them

think of you every time a plane passes by our window, and there are a lot of planes. so many planes

took out the totoro box you gave me so i can put it next to my pillow, but then worry about crushing it or whipping it off the bed in the middle of the night…so i put it back into my suitcase (for now)

update on that. it’s now on my bedside table. but you know about that anyway

almost messaged you multiple times about how many things i want to do with you in NY

remember how i replied ‘hi hi hi’ almost immediately after you sent a message to me? yeah that

stick your face onto my notebook lol. my mom saw me do it. I think she was judging me with amusement

think of you to help me fall asleep. but end up staying up because i’m thinking of you

use you as an excuse to not do work because i’m too distracted thinking about you but also as motivation to actually do work because i want to make you proud

listen to your voice messages over and over again. needless to say that the number is definitely past 28 now

make you that damn playlist and even let you listen to said playlist

almost told you that all I want to do is write you love letters that one time we facetimed. i want to write you all the time.

and so i plan out what letters i want to send to you next

I like gentle kisses more. I like the pause between shared breaths, the slow press of our mouths against our sprinting hearts. I like holding your face in my hands and kissing you in waves, in afternoon tides, as if I have all the time in the world. It feels effortless, kissing you in quiet intervals, like leaning against a wall, yet it also requires concentration. Kissing resembles dancing, and, though I seem to have two left feet, I like myself a waltz. There’s a deliberate ease to each step and move, the same type of ease you hold when I ask you ‘what’s up’ and you always simply answer, ‘you.’

So yes, to answer your question, I do like gentle kisses. I miss them a lot. I miss you in general. But that’s not unknown to you, so since, for now, all I can give you are my words, here are some other things I like:

I like it when you curve one hand around the side of my neck so I can lean into your touch, cat-like and comfortable. I like how when you tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, your eyes would follow the movement of your hand. I am always fascinated by the careful look on your face. You make me feel soft, like I’m delicate for a second.

I smile when our hands find each other even when neither of us are looking. I appreciate you matching my pace when I slow down our kiss. I’m touched when you slot your chin onto my shoulder from behind and look at those dreaded books that interest me. I like how when we’re reading together you would automatically place a hand over my head. As your mind tick-tocks around airports, airplanes, and the weather, you caress my hair.

I like all of that; I like you.

You are more than your shoulders, believe me. And despite my conscious effort to write all of this, you are more than your kisses, touches, proximity, and your gentleness. They’re wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the thought behind the actions that mean even more.

as someone from jeju, her only opportunities to attend big concerts were when she visited her maternal extended family in seoul during her summer and winter holidays, which was why she would never let those opportunities go to waste.

every time there was a concert she’d lug her xxkg camera with her on board the plane, complete with a lens that enabled her to take the best photos depending on where she would sit in the upcoming concert, no matter how heavy they were. she took care of her camera more than her phone, something her mother always berated her about after the time she lost her phone in seoul two years ago.

still, losing her camera was more serious than losing her phone. although she always kept her SD cards in her wallet when she traveled, buying a new camera and new lenses cost a lot more than a new phone. all the data and photos on her phone were backed up on google anyway.

she bought her camera with her own hard-earned money, and she wasn’t about to lose this method of viewing her idols up close.

‘your photos are really pretty!’

‘xxx has never looked so good OTL’

‘a little too white-washed but damn that bokeh bg tho’

‘these make me want to see xxx so badly’

she couldn’t help but smile whenever she saw these types of replies on her photos.