Tag: reflection

  • Mieko

    Happiness can be defined in all kinds of ways, but human beings, consciously or unconsciously, are always pulling for their own version of happiness. Even people who want to die see death as a kind of solace, and view ending their lives as the only way to make it there. Happiness is the base unit of consciousness, our single greatest motivator. Saying “I just want to be happy” trumps any other explanation.

  • Three films

    • The Worst Person in the World (2021)
    • Maborosi (1995)
    • Scrapper (2022)

  • Before June ends

    Song

    • Look On Down from the Bridge – Mazzy Star

    Youtube

    • @cemeteryf0g

    Film

    • Aftersun (2022)

    Book

    • The Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger

  • Semester 2

    Happy Sunday, Lavenders,

    It’s been a while since I last wrote here. I’m sorry about that.

    The fires in LA, the evacuation, moving back to college… everything’s been a little scattered. My thoughts, my days. It’s taken me some time to settle in.

    Yesterday, I came back to New York. Now I’m in my dorm, alone again. While I was away, dust settled in my room, so this morning, right after I woke up, I cleaned. I washed my clothes. Changed my bedsheets. And let the breeze in. It moved softly through the room, brushing past the curtains, carrying away the dust. After that, I went to Cherry Valley for grocery shopping with my friends. I picked up a carton of Chobani vanilla-flavoured oat milk for the first time, and it was really good. I normally don’t buy milk because it’s too big for me to finish on my own, and my mini fridge always feels too small. But I wanted milk with chocolate syrup in it so badly that I bought it anyway. It was a sweet decision. The vanilla was soft—perfect for a cosy winter day. When we got back from the store, my two friends and I gathered in the dorm and shared some bread that one of them brought from home. I don’t remember the name, it was one of the traditional Vietneme bread which has saseame seed on top of it. It was warm and the way we sat together, tearing off pieces, made me feel less nervous about being away from home.

    Seeing my friends again made me happy too. It’s only been three weeks, but it felt longer. I missed the way they tease me. The way we share snacks and random stories. How they make me laugh even when I don’t feel like it. But then I think about classes starting soon and I feel my stomach knot up already. Maths. Statistics. Deadlines. Tests. It makes me want to disappear for a while. But life doesn’t let you do that. You can’t pause the world. Sometimes, maybe. But most of the time, no. So I’m trying my best to be gentle with all the tides coming my way. I’m especially worried because I’ve been thinking too much about the future lately. “Do I even like this major? Is this what I want from life?” And that kind of thinking never ends—it loops back around, one question leading to another. But I’ll remind myself—God is with me. The worries, the doubts, the weight of everything I can’t control… I’ll hand them over to Him. He can carry what I can’t. And that’s enough for today (Matthew 6:34).

    If you’re reading this and you’re in college too, I want you to know you’re not alone. The second semester might be harder. There will be more tests, more deadlines, and more ways the world tries to measure us. But it won’t last forever. There’s an end to it. And we’ll finish the race together.

    For now, let’s keep going. One day at a time.

    You’ve got this. And God’s got you.

    Thank you for stopping by my little lavender fields.

    God bless and goodbye!

    ~Rue

  • Bird Wings

    Hello, Lavenders,

    How was your first week of 2025?

    Yesterday, I went to watch Flow (2024), a film I’ve been wanting to see for a long time. There’s no cinema near my college, so I haven’t been able to watch films as often as I used to. But now that I’m on break, I finally had the chance to go. I’ve been waiting to see Flow before it left theatres. The reviews were glowing, and I didn’t want to miss it. I found a small independent cinema, and the moment I walked in, it felt like home.

    I grew up on a little island where the animal population outnumbered the humans. We didn’t have big cinemas, only small independent ones. I used to take an hour-long bus ride every weekend with my friend to watch films. We were in our film buff phase back then, watching nearly every release that came out. Those bus rides were long, but we loved them. We’d talk about the films all the way home — what we liked, what we didn’t, what the director could have done differently. As we grew older, things changed. Life got busier. Exams, new responsibilities, different paths. The one of us moved to the other side of the island, making it harder to meet. Our trips became less frequent. But even now, whenever we meet, we always make time for a film. It’s our little ritual, a reminder of the days we shared popcorn, seeing who could fit more in their mouth at once and ending up choking from laughing too hard.

    Watching Flow reminded me of that.

    The film was beautiful. There was no dialogue, yet it spoke louder than words. And it stayed with me long after the screen faded to black. There were no humans in the film, but every wave, every crack in the earth, every storm felt profoundly human. It showed how we try to conquer nature without ever realising we’re part of it. How we take and take, blind to the damage, until everything stands on the edge of collapse. And how, in the end, it takes sacrifice to bring balance back to the world.

    For some reason, when I think of humanity’s habit of taking too much and leaving things broken, I’m reminded of Bird Wings by Valium Aggelein — a side project of Duster. The song carries a kind of sadness that lingers, mourning what’s already lost, while holding on, desperately, to what little remains.

    Thank you for stopping by my little lavender fields.

    God bless and goodbye!

    ~Rue

  • Hello From the Other Side

    Hello Lavenders,

    Happy Thursday and Happy New Year.

    I’m sorry for not uploading yesterday—it’s my fault for missing the first post of the year. I hope to become more punctual as the year progresses. To explain a little, I’ve been very sick. I thought a cosy day in my blanket fort would help me recover, but instead it got worse. I’m feeling a little better now, though I can’t say I’m fully recovered yet. Starting the year with an illness isn’t ideal, but maybe it means I’ll have better health in the months ahead—that’s my hope, at least.

    In my last blog, I mentioned starting Impossible Creatures. Although being unwell has limited my progress, I managed to read a bit today. The book’s reputation for exquisite writing is well-deserved—each sentence is written with such care that it’s genuinely mesmerising. I’m still far from finishing, so it may be too early to judge, but so far, it’s shaping up to be a book worth recommending. Once I’ve finished it, I’ll share my final thoughts.

    But let’s put my excitement about the book aside for now—today, I want to talk about my New Year’s resolutions for 2025.

    As I mentioned in my last blog, 2024 was such a whirlwind year, and I believe 2025 to be no different.To better prepare, I’ve made a few promises to myself:

    1. Pursuing my dream
      I’ve been wanting to talk about this, but I hesitate to get too personal (though I suppose I already have). Like many college freshmen, I’ve struggled with figuring out what I want from life and where I should go. Lately, though, a dream has started to take shape, and I can feel its pull. The only problem is, I’ve been too afraid to take the first step. Yet, over winter break, I realised that fear doesn’t go away on its own. Life moves forward whether we’re ready or not, and I don’t want to stand still any longer.
    2. Documenting my life
      This blog is part of it, but I also want to make journaling a regular habit. I know it’s a common resolution—and one that’s easy to abandon. Maybe I’ll struggle too. But these years, my time in college and early adulthood, won’t come around again. Every moment matters, even the small ones. I want to take more photos, write more journals, and share my emotions more. So when the present becomes the past, and memories begin to fade, I’ll have something to look back on—something that reminds me of who I was and what these moments meant. Too often, I hold my thoughts back, afraid of saying the wrong thing or stumbling over my words. This year, I want to let go of that fear and let my voice be heard.
    3. Watching more films
      There was a time when I was a film buff and watched many movies, but recently I’ve been consumed by reading. I’d like to return to my love of films. When I first arrived here, I was amazed by the sheer number of English books compared to what was available back home, so I read voraciously, as if making up for lost time. But now I want to find balance and enjoy both books and films.
    4. Letting go and trusting God
      I’ve always worried too much, trying to control everything as if the weight of the world rests on me alone. This year, I want to trust God more. To let go of what I can’t carry and give it to Him.

    I hope 2025 is a year full of hope and love for all of you.

    Thank you for stopping by my little lavender field.

    God bless and goodbye!

    ~Rue

  • Sticky Summer Air

    Hello Lavenders,

    The final day of 2024 has arrived. How are you feeling?

    For me, this year has been a mix of endings and beginnings. I graduated from high school and moved to a different country. Here, no one knows me, and that feels freeing, like I could rewrite everything from the start. It’s funny—one day you’re in your room, and the next, you’re in a whole new country. You never really know what’s coming next, but maybe that’s what makes life interesting.

    In this new place, I’ve met people I never expected to meet, discovered places I never thought I’d find, and learnt to grow in ways I never imagined. It’s hard to believe I’ve only been here for four and a half months. My perspective has shifted, my values have expanded, and I’ve started to understand myself in new ways. The friends I’ve made have helped me see life differently, but more than that, they’ve helped me see parts of myself I didn’t know were there. For that, I’m grateful.

    This year also gave many Britpop lovers what they had dreamed of for years: the Oasis reunion. Their music has been with me since I was a kid. I never saw them live, but they feel more real than any other band—especially Noel. He grew up with struggles, including a stutter, just like I did. It wasn’t just the shared sadness that drew me to him. It was the way he turned pain into art, showing me that life can hold hope and courage again. Even though Noel once said, “Don’t put your life in the hands of a rock ‘n’ roll band,” he’s still my rock ‘n’ roll hero.

    In the Supersonic documentary, Noel shares a piece of his past:

    “My dad used to beat the living daylights out of me. But I’ve never felt compelled to either talk about it or write about it. You can’t let that kind of thing affect you in any way. Because then you’re carrying that weight all the way through life. I think it benefitted me in the way that it made me withdraw into my own world. And from that came learning to play the guitar. I guess, in some way, my old fella beat the talent into me.”

    When I was younger, I watched that part over and over, like it was some kind of spell. His words felt like something I could hold on to. He reminded me that while we can’t choose what hurts us, we can choose what we create from it.

    This is one of my favourite lyrics from Stop Crying Your Heart Out, and I wanted to share it with you:

    Hold up
    Hold on
    Don’t be scared
    You’ll never change what’s been and gone
    May your smile
    Shine on
    Don’t be scared
    Your destiny may keep you warm

    ‘Cause all of the stars
    Are fading away
    Just try not to worry
    You’ll see them someday
    Take what you need
    And be on your way
    And stop crying your heart out

    These lines feel like a hand on your shoulder, telling you to dream, to keep going. They tell you that even when the stars fade and the world feels heavy, there’s a light, a chance, a person standing by your side.

    Music has a way of turning into a time machine. A single song can carry you back to the exact moment—the air, the light, the way the world felt. Oasis does that for me. When their songs play, I’m back in my childhood, riding my bike to the ocean after school with Wendy. We’d sit by the shore, watching the tides ebb and flow, listening to their music until the sky turned orange and the sun dipped below the horizon. We didn’t talk much, but we didn’t need to. Afterward, we’d scrape together every coin we could find and ride to the corner store. Inside, the air was cool and smelled like chlorine and cheap plastic. We’d grab the biggest blue drink we could afford and share it, passing it back and forth, laughing as it turned our tongues bright blue. I can almost smell the ocean wind, even though I’m far from home now. It was our way of letting everything inside us drift away, like the waves pulling back into the sea.

    In Don’t Look Back in Anger, Noel sings about starting a revolution from his bed. That’s my hope for 2025. Small revolutions. Gentle changes. Finding joy in the small moments.

    Here’s to Whatever comes next.

    Thank you for visiting my little lavender fields.

    God bless and goodbye!

    ~Rue