on this tuesday, which is wednesday

i don't need to say much about the title of this post other than this: i love 4 day work weeks.

i also love the US Open, specifically that fiery Spaniard with the adorable grin (Rafa, for those who have henceforth escaped his charm).

i also love the sudden onset of autumn. the sun shines brightly outside, but the breeze feels like it's coming right off the ocean (albeit without that glorious sandshelly smell). sweating has been removed from my list of everyday activities. i can sleep. i can eat soup again. the cells in my body respond to the change in season like clockwork: autumn means death and beginnings. and just like that, my heart is altogether open and sad, i am fully awake and feel like hibernating. living in paradox feels only right to this poetic she-soul. it is now that i feel most alive.

i'm really feeling the calm of this monochromatic house today. those gently luminous shades, the subtle but elegant chandelier. the soft grey of the chairs. i'm so exhausted lately (it could've been the 4am bedtime i employed on Sunday) and spaces like this look so restful.

all the same, i still feel most at home in my explosively colorful bedroom. i've reached some conclusions lately about certain attitudes i've entertained that have been harmful to me. it's time to "zoom out & zen out", as i've begun to call it; i need to distance myself a little, gain some perspective, and readjust. i'm a highly adaptable person, but there are some things that take me forever to get used to. i'm much more flexible than i used to be {picture a little asian girl with perfect posture crying when she makes a mistake during piano practice}, but there are some parts of my emotional structure that remain as unyielding as a piece of steel.

i'm working on it. i'm learning to love who i am,
but that love can't come at the sacrifice of being a person who is willing to, and can, change. without change i won't survive. the perpetual renewing of cells. and it's not all soothing tones and cucumbers over my eyes. no. renewal implies death.

i believe that death is inevitable, and i believe new life is on its way. i also believe that sometimes they collide in me at the same time. not always, but it's possible. the rooms within have hosted the brittle wind of November and the softly folded buds of March . . . sometimes they pass in the hallway, and they turn their heads at the sound of the others' opening door . . .

in paradox, in death, in all that is to come ---

images from
this house tour