recapturing

Until I deal with one more exam, unpacking and cleaning up the blackhole mess that is my room, my recollections of Taiwan will have to be incremental. But so long as I'm procrastinating, I may as well be writing here.

I got back at 8am. Everyone in the house was asleep; I sat around in an unreal state of mind for an hour then went to sleep until 3pm. I drifted in and out to the sound of people talking and laughing in the kitchen. At one point I was awake enough to probably get out of bed but I couldn't bear the thought of walking out to greet everyone, hug them, be bombarded with questions and etc. I know that sounds rather rude, but I allow me to stew in my withdrawal.

What can I say besides the usual 'amazing, incredible, blahblah' when asked by people how it was? It is so insufficient in conveying anything. I could rail off all the things I saw, ate, all the people I met, the meetings I went to, I could even say how blessed and moved I felt at times, how much I tried to soak in every moment and how at times my heart was bursting with peace or ambition....I could say all that and it would only make me feel like a rambling, insincere idiot. I know my friends will be happy for me, I know they won't mind me going on and on about this and that, I know they will look at my pictures.... but it's not enough for me. I have already spent the entire day thinking about and trying not to think about the past week. There are certain things that I will never be able to express properly in a normal conversation, but I can try my best to form a narrative here. Writing in hindsight is perhaps one of the most challenging but interesting mediums of self-reflection -not only is it an exercise of memory, it is an inquiry into representation. After years and years of journaling, of feeling both liberated and trapped by the act of documenting my own story, of going around in circles about whether I am remembering or refashioning, I think I have come to terms with the precariousness and fluidity of being "honest." Things happen point blank. What's true and real comes out through reorganisation and interpretation....and depending on the moment you choose to do that, you can end up with multiple and contradicting versions of the same experience. And if the present is constantly remoulding the past then the stories are endless and it means I can relive Taiwan endlessly at the same time that it inevitably fades. And that's good and sad to know.