An older Asian lady clutching an Express bag walked by the window. She was dressed conservatively in a red puff sleeve sweater. "I have a puff sleeve sweater too," I thought. I was struck with the thought that neither of us are seen how we want to be by others and cringed. How did she want to be seen?
"Do I dress conservatively?"
"Head to toe Madewell?! Of course you dress conservatively," Eddie said with a smile.
For a good couple of minutes I felt like the odd one out: E and A grew up rich. I fought my way into the upper middle class by chugging stoicism. Was caring about material goods a byproduct of that? I felt absurd for a moment. I don't want to tell you how much I spend on clothes.
Of course I know I should be in leggings and a hoodie doing my part to manifest BCIs, AGI, or at the very least a good ol' KPI. I'm sorry, San Francisco, I just can't right now.
"Do I look good though?" I followed up.
"Yes."
I exhaled, part of everything again.
I'm particular about my clothes. I was telling L that evening how I've stepped into womanhood because rather than nervously chasing everyone else's vibe, which included numerous wardrobe changes, I now feel that I am guided by my own inner identity. I may even have enough gravity to inflict a wardrobe crisis myself. I cringe again but wait, am I finally getting over FOMO, passing down the line?
I wonder what effect I have on others. I would love to step outside myself and see.
I feel my world reopening. I was struck with the desire to learn Mandarin just now. Oh, am I back at the language meme? She usually comes to me when it's time to enter a period of rest. What choice do I have? I'll indulge.
My whole life I've found it futile to fight the current of desire. Rather, I've found success in acceptance; leaning into it fully and then channeling the momentum of a guilty pleasure into disciplined work. Discipline and desire go hand in hand for me.
Maybe life is less like a path and more like a navigable river network. Sometimes the river is wide and the current so gentle as to be mistaken for a lake, but we are always moving. I understand freedom through this lens. You may swim shore to shore, float or dive, but you're always moving.
Is the Ocean death? Enlightenment or togetherness? It's not a complete metaphor, and no metaphor is. Completeness is fickle.
I sit up tall and inhale. I think about the novel in my backpack.
I pray I continue to find solace in its pages.
