It’s always sobering when I think of my ‘to-do’ list and all the things I haven’t yet done. In ten or so days, I will be yanked away from the city back into the peaceful rumination of university life, tucked away in a little campus. It’s all so cyclical and I’m so predictable, it becomes a self-perpetuating system fuelled by all my expectations and worries – but also my aspirations; my quiet, wishful thinking.
I could describe this bridge of uncertainty and choice either as liberating or terrifying. I know I’m at a stage where I can make life choices without backtracking too much, but I’m admittedly wary of being on that conveyor belt, that path of ‘settling’ for this-and-that, slowly ensnaring years of my life away until I wake up one day, mid-life crisis and all, asking myself “What the hell have I done with my life?” And, I know, I would have no answer.
Delayed gratification aside, there are a lot of things I wish I could take the plunge for … but I’m a comfort-lover and a convenience-addict shaped by all things safe and within reach. I was never taught how to take risks – only how to avoid them. I’ve spent most of my life trying to sort out Plan B and account for various contingencies, I’ve never really thought about Plan A. There is so much to be said about being strong and choosing what other people might scoff at – but there’s also so much naivety in believing that it would turn out any differently from the previous millions of attempts people have strived – and failed – for.
In any case, this strange inertia makes me feel like I’m overlooking the canyon edge into a bottomless pit. I lose a lot of focus when I’m in Hong Kong because everything here seems so gratuitous, so indulgent, filled with girly chit-chats and softly-uttered romance by Victoria harbour. There are candle-lit dinners overlooking the sea; giggly whispers as we lean over the balcony of a towering skyscraper, dangling our wine glasses in the glow of the light symphony; there are succulent banquets, plates of sashimi, juicy dumplings, warm custard-filled buns with creamy-soft insides, each engulfed in passing moments that are used and discarded. We live for the next, and then the next. I forget a lot of the things that haunt my mind but I know it is starting to all come back as the flight date looms ever closer.
On a lighter note – Kim’s visit! I will post photos as soon as I get my grubby hands on them.