The worst thing about having a barbecue by the sea is the sand. You come home feeling like you could shake a pound of it out of your clothes.
And then there’s the food itself: all kinds of disasters in one meal. Some things are still undercooked, some are burnt, some are covered in sand. The wind off the water is so strong it feels like even a deck of cards could get blown straight into the ocean.
I hit my limit and slipped away before it was even over.
Whenever I’m stuck outside too long, I start wanting to go home.
Who was it that called me a homebody? I won’t admit it outright, but I can’t really deny it either.
What I like most is staying in, quietly reading, listening to music, doing nothing dramatic. Quan has mocked me for that more than once.
I told Quet I was heading to Beijing, and somehow everyone in Beijing had already disappeared. An impressive kind of awkward.
He said that people who love solitude are philosophers.
Sometimes I do prefer talking to people like that—people who think rationally and don’t get tangled up in every little detail.
Life is short, so time should be spent carefully: do what you actually like, and stay with the people you actually like.
A note to myself.
My head hurts so badly it’s unbearable. I still don’t understand why a headache can make someone throw up. The thought that I may have to live the rest of my life with pain that could strike at any time is enough to drain even the strength to curse.
Cherish life. Stay away from air-conditioned rooms.
That sea cucumber dish from last night was truly awful.
Thanks to Sam for the memory stick, though I honestly can’t feel any improvement in my computer’s speed anymore.
I watched a friend losing it on QQ today. After a breakup, one half of a former couple keeps sneaking over to the other person’s blog, then getting upset over whatever they find there: a new admirer, signs that the other person is doing just fine, maybe even happily.
But what exactly are they hoping to see?
Does someone have to look fragile and abandoned for the pain to count? Do they have to spend every day unable to move on, drowning in drink, for it to qualify as heartbreak?
If looking only makes you miserable, then stop looking. Otherwise you’re just inventing new ways to torture yourself.
If it can be salvaged, then try to win it back. If it can’t, then forget it.
There are still people and things in this world more worth your time.
Maybe the person we will love most in this lifetime is someone we already can’t have. But until the very end, there’s no way to know who that person really is.