The Eleventh Month: August in November: A Cruel Summer
and so, this is the third writing that I am making tonight. My salted caramel macchiato with extra shot is still in my tumbler, my feet are feeling a bit tingling but that’s okay.
This is the month of exploring taste that I used to be afraid to put into my mouth. For the first time in my life (and for some are actually in years after hardly avoiding it), I eat durian, half cooked egg with its yolk going around my plates, I eat cheese in a brownie, I eat avocado, I eat bumbu petis, I eat lots of stuff that I used to avoid. I could say that I am not picky anymore?
This is also the month of exploring things I used to be afraid of. For the first time in my life (and for some are actually in years after hardly avoiding it), I swim, I snorkel, I actually get into a swimming pool, I cried in front of someone so loudly, I expressed my thoughts to a stranger, and I took a local unidentified taxi, and many other things that are news to me, but I did it already in this eleventh month.
A month that is full of surprises and as Taylor Swift perhaps has described it well in her song, “August slipped away into a moment in time”. And so it goes, and you can call it what you want. And so let it be, I presume it has vanished into thin air already. And so let it go, when the time is right, what is meant to be will find its place back.
This is a month of conquering things, of letting go, of being reminded that we’re still healing, of being slapped, of crying in a bed listening to All Too Well (10 minutes version) (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault), of seeing how Sadie Sink can perfectly portray the crying scene, of hearing unexpected words, of being okay and pretending nothing had happened, of accepting, of meeting new peoples, of planning holidays, of breaking down, of catching up, of letting the world knows the truth, of potato couching, of loving, of aging, of diving into archives, of exploring new places, of preparing itineraries, of shopping, of paying, of stabilizing, of restructuring, of opening, of closure, of befriending the past, of untangling things.
Of so many things.
Of preparing the finale of 2021 and making sure this year’ goals, target, resolution, ambition, aims, and everything in between have been achieved.
Of putting things into places, into times, into moments.
The title of this month has been prepared after one moment I had in early November. The moment of receiving and giving truth and explanation and forgiveness and apologies. But of course, a “oh wait wait, hold up, it’s still too early to tell” was told to mind but apparently, until the very end, the title is still correct. Thanks, mind.
A cruel summer in the autumn season. “ ‘I Love You’ ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” That what Taylor said, I agree and you may interpret the agreement as in saying yes to the question, or be the questioner.
Nonchalantly, this month actually mark 2 years of me writing consistently. That time in Mormors Bageri with a princess cake and a cup of cappuccino, I’d like to repeat this next year. Un-expect the expectation. Let it be, let it go. And so it sounded,
“For me, it was enough — To live for the hope of it all”
This is the month of realizing a wild goose in the rooftop, a pathway of exiting and canceling, acknowledging the effort of saving one and two through three, of exchanging role play, of changing the main character in a before-sleep-imagination, of noticing someone else inside a dream, of learning a feeling of non-attachment, and training, and getting used to, and viewing a whole different moment of snow and fallen ices, and hot chocolate, and oh a cinnamon roll. Of being
“Okay, let’s get there. Let’s have it all”
And so the summer is cruel,
leaving the November all alone,
with no winter.
