2023 Week 8: DUCKS

2 sights this week startled me out of my torpor: (1) migrant labourer eating a McDonald's ice cream solo, looking at the river at Bishan Park at sunset, and (2) DUCKS!

Turns out some of the world's beautiful things have been under my nose this whole time. I should make more of an effort to notice them. That is: cycle more! (Both sights were spotted on bike. When cycling, you can't use your phone and are forced to LOOK.) The key to sustained happiness is so simple and accessible, and yet I make excuses to not do it...

On Monday and Tuesday I focused on ticking off my to-buy list for UK. 

Wednesday my dad came by for lunch and we caught up before I went to work. My dad is one of my best friends in the world and another contributor to my well-being. I don't see him enough.

Thursday Jon and I cycled out to lunch, saw said ducks, and then I went to work. When I got home I found him sick with a stomach bug. 

From Friday to Sunday Jon was still sick. I did a bunch of tidying and cleaning. I packed pet and housekeeping supplies in large Toyogo boxes and labelled them, vacuumed the house, wiped some windows (unsuccessfully), cleaned the ceiling, cleaned both toilets... 

I also did freelance writing, blog posts, and journalling. This spate of writing, after a rather dry spell, prompted me to think a lot about what I want out of life.

There are certain (totally imagined and probably lavishly embellished!) literary lifestyles I wish I could emulate. George Orwell living among tramps and miners. Joan Didion eating at Morton's every day. Paul Theroux and Mark Twain travelling the world. Virginia Woolf wandering around King's College. Nora Ephron casually eating lunch at semi-fancy, locals-only cafe.

Then I did an analysis of how these lifestyles were funded, and promptly realised, when considered wholly, they probably aren't for me. 

Didion and Ephron had high-flying careers working on "pictures" (bygone era), Orwell was obliged to research miners after being given a book advance, Theroux and Twain were broke and sent packing to write travelogues for money (also an extinct practice). 

The most appealing persona, from a pecuniary perspective, is Woolf, for her intellectual and creative freedom was funded by an inheritance and not labour. Of course there's no way I can make that happen, nor do I want any of my family to die. 

In my own way, by pre-paying for the house and declining to have children, I have already funded most of my present freedom. Although I have to work to fund my current lifestyle, it is not a lot of work, and I should be very happy with myself for achieving this. If I feel I need more freedom, it's largely a matter of adjusting my attitude rather than circumstances. Conclusion: cycle more.