Moments in time #001
Reflections and randomness from the week of June 29th, 2025
My friend Tina reads everything I write. In fact, I know she’s reading this right now. Whenever I post something, she'll bring up something from two years ago: "I still think about when you wrote about those chillies." That was an experiment: a post mixing random observations from my week to help me get back into blogging. I never wrote another one after that, partly because I felt my life was rather boring, partly because I wasn't in a good place to be vulnerable like that on the internet.
Since declaring I want to be a better writer, I've been diving in head first. Writing is the purest creative expression for me. Somehow my design work has become more like engineering—all good, I love thinking through logic and systems—but it doesn't have that same creative fuel from my art director days. Now I'm looking for any excuse: a note here, a scene beat there, diving into lectures in my spare time. It doesn't feel like work; it feels freeing.
It's also incredibly embarrassing. Where did I get the gall to journal out loud to complete strangers during the internet's heyday? Somewhere along the teenage-to-thirties pipeline, our heads fill with imagined worries about what other people think of us, like everyone on the internet is pointing and laughing maniacally about joe schmoes like us.
I’m turning 35 next month and something has fundamentally changed for me. If someone is truly taking time out of their day to make fun of what I write here, tittering with others and waiting for the next release, then good. How sad for them! How terrible life must be for someone that insecure. I secretly relish making people squirm. Does that make me petty? It's such a delicious motivator for me to keep learning, growing and succeeding.
Anyways, here’s some moments:
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Short nail gang
For the last three months, I've been sporting long acrylic nails. Different shapes, different styles, and every couple of weeks I had an excuse to zone out into oblivion while an artist worked their magic. There's immense satisfaction in looking down at your hands and seeing mini-works of art. Is this what Schopenhauer meant when he said aesthetic contemplation was humanity's highest form of achievement? Probably not—that dude HATED women—but I'd like to think so.
I got used to typing differently, threw my pride to the wind as I asked people to open cans and packets for me, developed new manoeuvres for picking up my cats. As I was looking at inspiration for my next set, this intrusive thought started creeping in: I want to rip off my nails.
I don't know where it came from. I'd adapted to life with longer nails easily enough. I absolutely love the look of them. I just couldn't get the thought out of my head. At random points, in inconsequential moments, I’d place my fingers on a nail, any nail really, and imagine ripping it off and then promptly freak myself out for having the thought. I wasn’t even in a southern Gothic phase, so where was it coming from?
I spent days puzzling over the meaning of it, only to realise I was spending more time trying to dissect the meaning of something that probably wasn’t that deep. I had plastic, artificial nails glued onto my real nails. Of course my brain wants them off; it feels entirely unnatural. I could either accept that or take them off.
Tired, resigned, I decided to take them off even if it comes at the cost of my vanity. Sometimes it’s better to bring yourself peace than fight against, even an impulse you don’t understand.
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A good book
I’ve been in the habit of reading the book equivalent of junk food–cheesy novels that don’t require much thinking. Not dismissing it—every genre has its place and I’ve been grateful for them. A welcome reprise after a day of reading academic papers and Slacks.
The problem with having a lot of junk food is that you get tired of it. The once addictive burst of sweetness quickly becomes predictable and stale. Simultaneously I was loving and hating what I was reading.
(And as an aside, I am really getting sick of the incessant posting of tropes in book descriptions. It literally gives away half the point of reading the book. Stop it!!)
Then I came across The Less Unkind by Rosaria Giorgi. I’ll admit, I picked it up because of the cover and had little to no expectations of how it’d turn out—a roulette I often play with my library.
On the surface, this is not a book I would normally pick up. First, it’s labelled as a thriller and mystery. Two labels I immediately skip over in any type of browsing or searching. I simply do not want to induce anxiety while I’m reading, saving it for once in a blue moon when everyone is talking about some title that I should definitely pick up.
I loved it. Mainly because the mystery revolved around the history of science and art from the Renaissance down to the Baroque time of Caravaggio. It weaved between central Europe, showcasing life in Italy and Denmark that had me longing to go back to Copenhagen again. I was rooting for the main character (and narrator) the whole way. And the pacing was just right.
I loved it so much that I rationed out my chapters so I wouldn’t devour it in one sitting. I didn’t want it to end and I didn’t know when I’d find another one like it.
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Nice to meet you
“Nice to meet you,” the instructor said, “Do you have any injuries?”
Well, this was embarrassing, I had been in her class at least five or six times by now. This was supposed to be a Yin Yoga class, a moment of relaxation and I was about to crash out wondering if my face was really that forgettable.
That’s the dramatic side of my brain. It loves to spin stories out of everything and nothing. The logical side of my brain knocked to remind me that I had been cancelling my weekly classes here and there for social fun and obligations.
We welcomed a new person to my team, which meant a lovely dinner somewhere near Surry Hills. We picked NOUR, a Middle Eastern restaurant with a lovely brick oven and grill. The scallops and lamb neck were amazing, just the right amount of burnt. Then a catch-up amongst designers meant we needed somewhere with great branding and vibes. We went to Island Radio in a newly gentrified—truly, it went from mom-and-pop shops to the ritziest groceries—area on the border of Surry Hills and Waterloo. The deconstructed duck “lumpia” was amazing along with the vegetarian coconut curry. Out late on school nights, but my heart was full from yapping.
On one hand, I was filling my cup with good food and laughter. On the other, I was completely ignoring my workout and sleep schedule. Now two of my goals were at odds: being in tune with my body and being a better friend. I still don't know what to do about this.
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Random tidbits
I have a mountain of LinkedIn messages to respond to. Gah! It gives me anxiety just looking at them.
Walking to my pilates class, I saw a woman I normally see there. She was having a cigarette before our class. I guess it’s all about balance in life, right?
My husband keeps getting this Instagram ad for meggings. I’m starting to wonder what he is doing to get served this ad…
My cats have been extra cuddly because of winter. Let it be cold forever!
I also read everything you write CJ 💜 love your writing! Also… how good is NOUR, had a team dinner there during protoweek 🤩