No exceptions (still in india)
Whoop, whoop, surprise, surprise, Stephanie is in another part of India. I am not sure how I manage to crave stability and create a schedule that prevents all forms of such occurrences, but here we are
Big Fat Indian Wedding
I think we are at a point where each week is going to be plot twist upon plot twist. This week what I am writing about already feels like a different era of existence, even though it was only ~4 days ago.
45-82% Silly: Stephanie in Valparai, India
Just to get us all on the same page, I am in India.
Flights Cancelled, Planes Delayed, and the layovers that subdue irritations
plane, layover, plane, layover, plane cancelled, new plane, rest.
Oh Taiwan, I think you saved me.
Because of Taiwan, I know who I am, as myself. I know my ties to land, people, and my body.
Less about Taipei, more about being tired
To the outside world, and to describable English, my path makes little sense. I am decently confused and disoriented yet deeply directed and purposeful in my core. There is a sensation beneath my rib cage, somewhere in my chest, that indicates that I am doing just as I need to be doing in this moment. While my work is not lucrative (yet), I am working.
Jumbling Back to Taipei, Taiwan
Holding my sign up high, I put up my thumb. And then I was off.
The Intersection Got a FamilyMart and They’re Calling it Downtown (Taiwan)
Noah Kahan has a song describing small town energy: “The intersection got a Target // And they’re calling it downtown.” Replace Target with FamilyMart and that about describes the village I am in.
That is to say, the village is villaging.
The Eastern Coast of Taiwan
More and more of my headspace is being allocated to the external details of my environment. I am studying how my body interacts with space. This is a good sign— an indication that perhaps I am pushing outside the six-year tornado my brain has been nonstop producing.
Purposefully Confused in Taiwan
So here I am, back in Taiwan ready to revisit the places where I was most vulnerable. To stand where I once stood with a new confident stance.
Captured and Lost: Reflection on How Images Taint and Manipulate Memory
One thought that has been pulsing through my mind is the irreparability of memory lost to images. With the collection of moving and still images, we concentrate our memory on that which we repeatedly observe. What we begin to most remember no longer is the recollection of the event, but the recollection of what these images present to us.
The Monkey of Humanity
Specifically, in drawings throughout the late 18th century, Europeans viewed non-white people as closer to apes, hence uncivilized. Prior to photography, audio recording, and quick transcontinental transportation, local Europeans relied on drawings and journals from European explorers to understand the world beyond their immediate borders. So the question then becomes, how do Western European’s representation of observational drawings relating to apes and indigenous people propagate Europe’s colonial endeavors in Southeast Asia in the late 18th century?
When We Stop Listening
Today I have finished my 192 paged A4 Dingbats notebook. I have spent the last 359 days carving into its pages with anger, panic, sadness, joy, love. Here is one of the poems that I wrote nearly a year ago, that would otherwise be forgotten to the bookshelves that harbour away the confessions of my past.
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