The Leaving Party
(TW: funerals, death and loss. But a thinkpiece on it so to try to alleviate the gravity of these topics. Proceed at your own discretion.)
I was just thinking about this because I think an awful lot about impermanence and about how nothing lasts forever - (and true as it is this is a radical thought to have to accept because I’m the type of girl who WANTS things, especially good things, to last forever) - and how life will inevitably come to an end and how scary it’s made out to be - so this is just me wanting to prepare for when the day comes (ooooohhhhh god this is real terrifying but here goes):
Cry when I’m gone and miss me, but please don’t think of my absence with excessive gravity. The world goes on without me, (we all die on a regular day of the week like the ones we’re living right now), so as long as I’ve made some sort of positive impact on it it’s good. (And for as far as I have lived from ages 0-19 I’ve lived well, fully and richly sooooo there’s that).
Obviously it’d terrify me to think e.g. my death will happen anytime SOON… but you know, I have been living a full, lovely life so far, I’ve learned a lot, had amazing experiences so (whether my life ends in a couple years, although very daunting, or 3 quarters of a century later) it is STILL an overall gain obviously (- say compared to the alternative in which I never existed).
Don’t call it a funeral, call it a leaving party.
Hold a FUN leaving party! Don’t do all the somber funeralistic rituals. I don’t want it. Put the FUN in funeral. I hope the funeral celebrates my life and what it was while I lived it. that’s what I want.
Make GOOD food! Sushi, ramen, good pasta, indulge yourself.
Don’t be afraid to laugh or smile at my funeral. But also don’t feel obligated to. (This is also not license to be disrespectful!)
Play some good music (play my favorite albums please I’d want that).
Decorate it pretty. Take inspiration from my pinterest design boards please and thank you.
Like I want it to feel like I’m THERE. What’s the point of a funeral if all it does is make you cry and feel grave rather than be some beautiful closure to your life.
Everyone who has EVER been in my life is invited. I want this to be an open invitation. Not an exclusive one. You could have been out of my life for years or decades and I’d still want you to come, so long as it’s something you want to do, or if you care enough to come.
I’d like to hold my leaving party at places I loved (budget is out of consideration but the idea/sentiment remains) - some contenders:
HK but specifically places like Discovery Bay or some really scenic place on Lantau Island, or maybe Whampoa because that’s where home is;
Singapore because I looooove Singapore;
New Zealand (but I’m so sorry if you gotta like travel real far for that lol);
Some really pretty snow mountain place - I’d love that;
Maybe even Oxford. This place is growing on me.
Know that permanence is scarier than impermanence. To be trapped in something for eternity without escape is scarier than the ephemerality of reality (re: The Good Place finale with the Jeremy Bearimys).
I hope you cherish the memories you had with me and carry it with you fondly.
If by the time I go I’ve published my creative works, play them, discuss them, talk about it, pleaseeeee.
I want to be thinking about this at peak youth so that the essence of who I am is preserved even as I grow older.
I want my ‘leaving party’ to be an artistic expression? If I can get people THINKING about death differently through art? Would be nice.
I don’t know - just thoughts that I think about before I go to bed.
my thoughts: a collection. pt.2
i sometimes forget this is what i wanted
cold autumns in the uk
time alone without obligation
freedom and independence
(releasing music even)
being respected by the people around me
this is the happy ending i wanted
so why do i still get anxious?
why do i worry about falling out of touch?
why do i still sometimes think the worst has happened to me?
that i was ‘so much happier then’?
why do i still feel insecure or discontinuous?
why do i still try so hard to restore something that no one but me tried to break?
have i made peace with the last year?
am i on track again?
do i still feel as though i have untapped potential? trapped? frustrated to have not met my vision yet? falling behind?
there is a pair of rose tinted glasses i constantly try to retrieve
when i put it on i cant quite make it last cause i lose it to a mean voice inside my head
who am i underneath all these expectations?
what was i chasing after all this time?
something magical within myself, a beautiful moment not attached to any particular person or thing? that i can tap into
i am searching for something that i have previously found
but it is hard when time can never turn back for you
when you run the risk of losing touch with who you once were by age and by circumstance
as the world turns…
the world is just as bright as it was when you were 9
when adults looked like adults, and you were a child
never any pressure or intimidation
you spend your days in brightly colored classrooms and school buses
your Christmases in tropical places like pool resorts in Thailand, your summers on familiar beaches
and your imagination is limitless, and you’re writing books and powerpoints on your old MacBook Air
one minute you wanted to be Elsa from Frozen, the other Elle Woods from Legally Blonde after participating in a musical,
the other Taylor Swift - she’s just released 1989 and you’re making magazines and websites about her, and Shake It Off and Blank Space was playing everywhere
what was it you wanted to be? a fashion designer? a CEO?
did you maybe dream of fame?
you visited New York, and vowed to live there when you grew older
sometimes I like to think that optimism and ambition still lives on
the world is just as bright as it was when you were 11
a year of first crushes and dance pop, you saw London and Barcelona,
and your fashion sense was at an all-time high
you shopped at Urban Outfitters and Stradivarius before everyone else did
(you still wear that white sweatshirt from Barcelona to sleep)
and you tell your best friends you’re going to rent an apartment in London together
sometimes I think I felt more like a teen at preteen-age than I did as a teen
but I think of her when I’m taking pictures or when I’m posting on Instagram
and I make sure she approves of what I post
or when I am dressed in a cute outfit, and I make sure she approves of what I wear
the world is just as bright as it was when you were 13
suddenly it smells a bit like November 2018
the smell of my homestay from New Zealand
Oxford looks a little like New Zealand actually
the low-rise homes, the small town coziness
I guess I still have it in me to appreciate the beauty in the littlest of things
the world is just as bright as it was when you were 17
the weather reminds me of October 2022
that switch from summer to fall and the temperature falling to the low twenties
I still listen to the same old songs from the last december I spent at school
and I couldn’t explain its magic but I had it immortalized in the palm of my hand, in the form of a playlist on my phone
Oxford looks like Salzburg in this light
or it could’ve been Copenhagen and its colored buildings
the last time I remembered feeling that weightlessness
- I felt almost limitless then
the world was still bright when you were 15
when you tried oh so desperately to bring back who you were three years ago
not knowing three years later you would miss you so badly
taking the 81 bus every single day to and from school, it was exam season
and now I live vicariously that very memory by watching my now 15 year old sister through a screen
it’s comforting to know that world still lives on at the same time as mine
and the world is still bright at 18
it was bright after that nightmare you had one random night
when for some reason you couldn’t seem to feel the same as you did just one month ago no matter how hard you tried
when it launched you into a panic spiral and you thought you’d never get yourself back
it was still bright when you spent two months running errands in immigration offices in that insufferably unprecedented headspace
when that typhoon hit September first, I know you’ve always loved typhoons
but you still walked the sunny summer streets with your mom in Hong Kong Island that August afternoon, and you still went to that concert you’ve planned on going for 3 months now, and you still went and got drunk with your friends, and you still had those lunches in Tsim Sha Tsui with your friends, and you still packed your things and got yourself ready…
… and everything your mind told you to be afraid of happening, never happened
it was bright when you first landed in this city
a little separated from the girl who got you here
you tugged your luggages across the cobblestone floors
brace yourself for the biggest misfit phase of your life so far
in probably the most beautiful place you’ll find yourself in
it was bright when you were sitting in your room,
scrolling through your phone, unable to quit the endless reels
when Modern Family served as the antidote for your healing heart
but perhaps also as the distraction from the heapload of work you had yet to do
it was bright as you made your way through the new year
the first ever new year where you were scared of what the year held
we’re almost halfway through now, and the days are longer, and the skies are clearer, and so is my mind
and sometimes I think I’m lying but I’m kind of starting to mean it now
and now I’m sitting in the same building as the first hotel I lived in
thinking about everything and every version of me that has ever been
some of which I would never go back to
some of which I actively run away from
some of which I’d give my all to relive
but i just know I’d hug them all if i had the chance
and it is 8pm, and the sky is still bright
and it will continue to be at 20
or 25
or 33
and suddenly everything just looks a little brighter again
— as the world turns, 2024
stable life (2022)
stable life. what does it feel like to live for something that kills you?
we all know the saying ‘life is a work of art’.
well, i never saw it as any more than one of those fake-deep metaphors about life that people throw around unsparingly, but the more i thought about it, the more i realized maybe that’s just exactly what life is.
everyone starts off with a blank slate.
the indifferent people, they leave it blank.
most people play it by the book - they keep it real.
find a practical object to work with, stick to it, and replicate it to the best of their ability.
some people are more gifted than the others… they replicate it down to every single nuance.
some people, no matter how hard they try, are struggling to even get the silhouette right.
well personally, i find still life boring - it’s not like i know what i want to do with my slate yet, i just don’t find still life particularly alluring.
it feels too … stable for me.
i want something stimulating. exciting.
something more.
but i don’t quite know what it is yet.
so i spend my time staring at myself in the mirror, thinking my reflection will show me an answer.
i explore mountains and valleys, experiencing the highest highs and the lowest lows, first-handedly learning how the highs aren’t as worthwhile without the uphill battle preceding it.
i watch the trains pass by each station, the crowds of busy people alighting and boarding the train as if they all know where they’re heading to, while i sit on the station bench quietly observing the human nature, trying to make some meaning out of all this.
i watch the passing clouds by my windowsill, the transience of every sunset, just as beautifully impermanent as the creativity that sparks through my mind every once in a while.
and for those brief moments that these creative thoughts pass through my mind, i get the feeling that i have the potential to create something super special in my life.
then i watch my peers excel at what they do, and my eyes return to my blank canvas... and i think to myself if i haven’t gone so far down this road, maybe that could’ve been me.
but do they really have it better?
if in front of me was a beautifully drawn still-life piece and all that’s left to do for the rest of my life is to perfect it down to the bone and not mess up, would i really be satisfied?
in fact it may have been easier. my slate is still blank. it still isn’t too late for me to grab an object and start copying away. but i won’t do that.
i never seem to understand why we’re all given the choice or freedom to create whatever we want, but most people choose to rigidly bound themselves to the confines of reality.
working away at my desk and coming up with ideas is the very thing i live for, and it’s so exciting watching my own mind work away on autopilot mode.
or at least - that’s what happens on a good day.
more often than not its withering away at your desk with every hour that passes as your mind rests in a state of idleness, then removing yourself from your own head and realizing you’ve wasted all this time being unproductive, and it leaves you feeling empty inside.
or when i excitedly tell someone about this new idea of mine that i’m extremely proud of, only to be left on read or plainly ignored-
and maybe it’s just because this just so happens to be something they don’t really care about, or maybe they don’t understand it at all-
but it still leaves you second guessing whether what you do even means anything.
and it’s these moments when i often find myself swearing at my empty canvas, thinking to myself ‘this is a waste of time’, wondering what the point even is? is there even an end goal?
to be fair, i have met a fair share of likeminded people who don’t like to play it by the book either. and it definitely makes me feel less alone in my pursuits. plus it’s always inspiring to look at what others have done with their lives.
but it also hits you like a truck because what if you never attain that level of greatness? what if THAT good idea never strikes and you live out a life of mediocrity?
it feels like i’m living for the very thing that is killing me slowly.
i live for the moments of euphoria as i draw up visions of new projects and ideas in my head.
but it’s almost as if creating things fills up the void in my heart created by my desire to create, in this weird self-replenishing cycle.
so then i start to understand why so many people take the safe road.
i talk to friends, family and acquaintances, noticing patterns such as how we only ever talk through lines but never read in between them, and i find it funny especially because it’s in our blood to crave being understood; and then i think of how each and every of their lives is just as vivid and complex as my own- there’s a word for it- sonder.
maybe art will be a way for us to truly connect with each other, to fill the void in our souls when we need it the most, to be genuinely understood and resonate with one another.
i don’t think anyone wants a stable life really- we all want to live out the most vivid lives we can- but most of us run out of ideas, or are afraid to take that risk in fear of failure - and i can’t tell you how many times i’ve almost fallen down this hole myself.
but if we want to live out a purposeful life, we must be fearlessly pertinent in chasing what we want.
and that’s why i’ll let it kill me if that’s the price i must pay to create something that actually means something. something that stands out among a sea of realistic works of art, no matter how detailed or impressive they are. and maybe i’ll never be as great as the greats, or maybe they’ll never hang my art up in museums, or maybe not a lot of people will come along and tell me they understand and resonate with my work. and maybe all the critics and the skeptics will come along and discredit my work, or say it isn’t enough. but that’s not what i’m living for.. so i’ll keep trying because i want to at least know that i gave it my all.
so while i watch everyone go on and paint out their stable lives, i guess i’ll just continue sitting here waiting
waiting
waiting
for a great idea to strike.