25

on the 27th,

I am the most illegible person in my life and that makes it hard to celebrate.

I’ve never put much thought to the myth of the brain “fully developing” at 25. People sometimes describe it as a moment where the fog clears up in front of them. However, I catch myself having foggier days now than I did 8 years ago. When I was identifying with my suffering that felt sharp and true, atoning for my first sin of being born. I felt mature in my own pain, it was the only thing saving me, while unconsciously robbing myself of joy thinking it’s only reserved for the naive. It didn’t help when those older mistook my immature suffering as honourable development – “soulful”. By over-attaching myself to the sadness I feel for myself meant that I could hide behind it, giving myself a way out from self-interrogation, and that’s my biggest sin. Making myself visible meant exposing myself to risk. I had to be small at all times, feel guilty at all times, because that would prove me virtuous, prove myself deserving of love and attention. I could hide behind my own pain, while escaping the work of knowing myself.

I have read of Le Guin’s quote ^[1] on the banality of trauma. I have. Though intellectualising proved much easier than practising it. I am committing treason, but it was the only way I felt real. Bad habits die hard. Suffering is universal, and so personal. They say it gives character and persistence, but I come to think it only does if you give it the time to marinate, like wine or mold. When suffering is constant, replaying pain prohibits its death.

^[1] quote mentioned

“The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist; a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain.”

– The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas

Truth of the matter is, this year I’ve been surrounded by joy and it makes me uncomfortable, undeserving, scared even, like a deer in headlights. Because joy makes me legible. At 25, I think I want to start understanding joy.

That is enough for death,
now for real life.

This year’s birthday activities have been spread out full and thick. As long as it’s happened around that time, I’ll count it as a birthday activity even if there’s no relation to it. Hopefully, I’ll stop thinking of my birthday as another day to dismiss but another day to be aware of the life happening within and around it.

• volunteered at a soup kitchen that serves areas i always frequent, loved ones came along to teman yayy.
• picnic under the rain at dataran merdeka with M……
• surprise party with my friends and family!!! they got me a lok lok truck in the fucking house and i cried. there was also a DJ (my friend) and it was great. i cried again.
• karaoke of course is an essential birthday activity. i still don’t have a go-to song.
• attended a documentary theatre play part of KL festival – Fragments of Tuah – and it was great.
• catching up with friends from a time where it was normal to feel like dying
• M brought me to a couple’s ring-making workshop, each hand-stamped with “moon” and “sun”. then brought me to a cozy japanese restaurant.
• I got 4 cakes in total to gather people around a table with <33

With all that, I’m learning how to feel comfortable with joy in my body. So far, it’s like controlling an uncanny version of myself. It’s difficult to give joy the same reverence and fuel as pain and suffering. Weirdly enough, detaching myself from the self through joy gives me more room to wander. Though I do admit I am wandering a bit too far and loose, can joy anchor me in place?

Not every intense emotion is meaningful; not every uneventful emotion is useless.

Nina Montagne mentioned in a video that the “self is such a small container for a meaningful life” and I felt compelled to incorporate that into how I viewed my self and the world when possible.

• I am too afraid to give myself away. Do I need to?
• I enjoy more when I dislike more; I enjoy less when I try to enjoy everything.
• I am connected to everything else. Sometimes that is overwhelming = paralysing.
• Living a life is also deciding what I want to exclude.
• Though ideally, I am side-quest maxxing. I suspect this will give me a career crisis.
• I create too slowly for my liking. I am urgent when it comes to sadness.
• Back in the question-loop of: “Graphic design here is so limiting” and “Actually, what the fuck is graphic design?” and “How do I make graphic design something I continue to enjoy?”
• It’s still a little tricky to untangle my feelings from coming home. I tell people I’m living it as I go. The process is the product.
• Perhaps the sad truth is I currently feel so small and unagentic at home, it’s difficult to exist in a place where it doesn’t need you to function.
• I am learning how to drive with good progress. I believe this will save me.

Anyways!! 25 was a blast, let’s do it all again and hope it’s different than the last. I love my friends and my family, they love me too so I know it’s all real.