The third decade of my life

Hello Dante, 

It’s a pleasure to deepdive into your archives and drafts, to find the small shimmering pieces of myself that’s been buried over time. Nowadays the currents up on the surface have taken me to new oceans entirely, a world away, so it’s comforting to know that, somewhere out there in this virtual world, I still have an anchor to a past me.

So here it is, almost 2 months later, a new treasure chest that reflects my 30th year. The last couple of months have been an absolute ride, as have been hinted in my previous entries. In my 29th year I took one of the biggest risks I’d ever had in my life. And, as this initial chapter is coming to a close, I can safely say that it was one of the best decisions I’d ever made.

Growing into this year I’ve come to let go of a lot of expectations set on me by my societal environment. The typical queries of love and relationships, of traditional career trajectories, or even a secure, independent home for myself. It’s gratifying in many ways, but mainly because I find that I am content. I chose the road less travelled and I am here.

At the age of 30, dante, I’m loved and blessed. I’m healthy, have a circle of friends and family who I trust with my life. I’ve carved a living doing what I absolutely love. I’ve even managed to live out some of my bucketlist dreams, and some that I didn’t even realise I’d desired. It’s taken courage, sacrifice, selfishness. While I admit to the numerous mistakes and losses, I live with no regrets. 

Plotting this occasion in this present moment (as I’m on a train to bicester, on the last sunny Saturday I’ll spend in London this side of summer) feels interesting because I’m at a juncture of sorts. The ship that awaits to carry me to my next destination is bigger, brighter, and I have to dress and equip myself well enough to set sail. I’ve been sewing the garments myself and hammering at metal, so pray that they’ll hold true. 

So here’s to a new decade with you. To love, light, and grace. 

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There’s a curtain I’m about to go through, and there is a stage waiting for me on the other side. 

Luminescent Life

"This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as one of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box, but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate each other at the end. And you might walk away from each other, one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. 
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes hold of someone, she might only just remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone.Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end."

- Ned Hepburn, 2011

At last

For the numbered days, a note to self;

There will always be a different chance, another opportunity, a later time, to create and act

upon all that you wish. It is this prevalent belief in yourself, and in the eventuality of positive outcomes, that is the magic and law to the whole of living. 

Would it not be more interesting..

If the tangible infrastructure around us were broken down to its basic geometry and loci? Dynamic cubes of mechanical transportations on two dimensional planes, broken into fragments by the selective lines of its context; If we were to regard our surrounding in its simplest form, as connected by tangents upon a calculated grid, as a kinetic model with almost circadian precision.. wouldn't that be warpingly fascinating? Layers of elementary colour blocks juxtaposed with the intricate perplexities of calculative functions. Something like Tron. But with more colours. Damn.