On Solitude: Любимото ми нещо е да чета в леглото ми гола
So the soft spot is still there.
In-between when I was about to fall asleep and open my eyes from a deep slumber. In-between moments of the stillness of the morning haze. It is short, the moment right after the sky slowly lights up and right before the first word is ever being spoken in the air, sharp like a knife rips off the gauze. Before the city appears like a city, before we put our guard on like wearing an invisible coat. Then it’s gone; the softness is gone.
A stranger at the party poured me a glass of whiskey and left me with a gentle stroke on the back of my head before he walked away. The kind of stroke you would give to something that needs to be cared of. His stroke caught me off guarded because it reminded me of something soft yet I couldn’t remember what it was.
I got my first annual evaluation at work. I scored 86 out of 100 and here’s what my manager said about me: “Chin constantly displays willingness for improving her work and quality of execution. She deals effectively with deadlines and is able to multitask. Additionally, she demonstrates the ability to be a self-starter and to act without prompting. I can rely on her to complete a task in a timely manner. Her teammates spoke very highly of her thinking she is energetic, reliable and smart.” Strangely enough, as someone who writes, sometimes I think words are the cheapest thing on earth. I stared at the comment thinking I should give myself some credits for having my very first overseas job but all I could feel in me is that it could be better.
I’m trying to learn a new language; it could be better. I’m trying to learn a new skill; it could be better. When you use the word “try”, you’re not there yet. It’s like a black hole and there’s no end in it. What was Matt singing about the black hole? Oh yeah, “oh baby don’t you know I suffer, you set my soul alight.” Not exactly quite what I was talking about but that’s okay. How can anyone not to be mesmerized by Matt’s talent and stage charisma I simply don’t understand. I closed the door behind me, sat myself down in an empty room filled with cold air, trying to breathe everything out. Michelle Gurevich said it doesn’t matter what you create, if you have no fun. But I believe you can be having fun, not having fun, creating something, being grateful and harsh on yourself all at the same time. Life has many layers.
Sometimes it’s harder to be soft.
Translating is something you cannot hurry. First, you grasp the concept presented in one language, put it in your head, and then try to convey it into another language the best you can. Of course, no matter how good you are at converting languages, something is always lost in translation. But according to the law of conservation of energy, nothing will be lost. Perhaps it will appear in somewhere else; if you believe there is energy within words. I do believe it firmly because words construct your perceptions and your perceptions construct your reality. Then I thought about freedom. The real meaning behind it.
For my whole life, I’ve been interpreting my name incorrectly. If you put my full name together, Kao Shang Chin, it forms two adjectives: with integrity (Kao Shang)and with diligent (Chin). Such a heavy name but that’s not how our names work; I cut it in the wrong segment. I never really thought about asking it until a few weeks ago that I finally asked my dad where does it come from. It turned out it has nothing to do with integrity nor diligent. My first name, Shang Chin, came from another woman before me. She was one of the many lovers of a Taiwanese contemporary historian writer. My dad has his whole collection and claimed him to be his favourite writer. A few pieces of her writing were included in the collection. She also wrote a bit but not as famous. My dad told me he named me after her because she’s a talented woman and he would like me to be one. I asked him what does talented mean to him. He said someone who can write out good words, the ones that shake people’s hearts. I didn’t ask him if I have become the talented woman he would like me to be because I haven’t become the talented woman I would like myself to be. But I felt a rush of warmth inside me as if I was meant to find comfort in words.
Yet there’s something words can never reach, but only with a gentle stroke, where we need to pull our energy down to earth; the energy floating around our head and forms our perceptions. Words are manipulative but body rarely lies.
Sometimes I find it hard to locate the soft spot, especially when you’ve been trying to be stronger for a very long time. But when you use the word “try”, you’re not there yet. So it’s still there; the softness is still there. It exists when you’re ready to fall asleep, when you’re ready to let your guard down, when a song takes you back to the smell of the after-rain in the middle of the night several years ago back in the college time, the night you decided to drive out on your scooter to see the lightning striking intimidatingly in the dark violet sky. Back to where it feels familiar and old. It locates exactly inside of you and it will never be gone.
Life is a bodily experience. From your thoughts to your body and from your body back to thoughts. Something lost in words will ultimately return to your physical form. Because the body is beyond languages, concepts and reasoning. The body is the body, when we bleed, we bleed the same. And that's it. That’s where your soft spot lies.
