Category Archives: (Kind of) Journal

Enjoyed a menstruation day, surprisingly

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t open my eyes this morning. My period had made me so uneasy last night and kept me awake until 2:30. I crawled out of bed and walked around the room, still half asleep, to look for some food. Nothing left from last night, and then I discovered that I also ran out of vegetables. There were about 15 eggs left. If only I could make a spell so two eggs would turn into two cucumbers right away. Sometimes I spend hours dreaming of a world where things like this would happen everyday. Maybe that world does exist, and that’s why many people, including me and J.K Rowling, have similar versions of it.

Anyway, I actually considered staying at home all day, but then I changed my mind. I’m all the way supportive of self-love. But the truth is that you just can’t have too many self-loves in a short period of time. My period lasts for 5-6 days every month and I feel uncomfortable on every single one of them. If I just stay at home and stick my eyeballs into my laptop, I would become a lazy useless deplorable starving person, the exact kind of person that I condemn.

So, on days like this, when my stomach didn’t hurt like hell fire, I decided to get my ass up and go to my academic writing class, then go to work. How good life is to me – on a day when my hormones prevent me from having any ideas about anything, my task in class was to write a summary (even though I still don’t understand why our teacher made us write rhetorical analysis before teaching us how to write a summary – we USE summary in rhetorical analysis for Buddha’s sake!)

Of course my students, who are really pretty and who care a great deal about how they look like, noticed that their teacher didn’t give a damn about her physical appearance today, entering her class with brown lips, moms’ jeans and eye bags. One commented on it, but I had no more energy to care. Despite the undeniable urge to lie down anywhere, I managed to introduce them a new skill today. Didn’t screw up the rest, thankfully.

Unsurprisingly, I also struggled to stand up from my seat, get out of the air-conditioned room and ride my bike back home. But I got energized after the ride, and happy too, maybe because of the belief that I looked pretty cool riding a green bike on the street while the wind was blowing and there were so few people. Yep! The key is that the street must have few people. Whenever there are traffic jam, I feel exhausted, ugly and barbaric.

But what’s more important is that I felt happy at last. I decided to continue the happiness by shopping for dried sea weeds and make myself some gimbabs.

 

 

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Dance, fall, hurt your toe and butt, walk like a freak, and be proud of it!

Today marks the day I can finally do an a la second turn and injure myself for dance. I had no ideas how much a dance injury means to me until now. I used to see ballet dancers’ feet on the internet and cringe, thinking of how painful that is, how gross it is for people to see your feet like that. But now after I danced bare feet in a dirty room and then fell in my butt, my toe looks grosser than any of those images I saw, and yet I am so proud of it. Now I understand why dancers keep doing what they do regardless of the pain, the humility they have to suffer when they hurt themselves because of dance. Not because people will admire ballet dancer since they sacrifice so much for the art. Believe me, many people just cringe and swear to themselves they’ll never do the same stupid thing. The thing that keeps dancers dancing even though the excruciating pain bites them, hard, everytime, is the exact feeling of it, feeling of the injure right here, so clearly, feeling every inch of it on my skin, my flesh, the feeling that reminds them they have danced so hard until they break their bones, and that they finally do something worthy for their art and there’s no need to feel shame anymore.