One could assume that it would be easy to fall into a writing routine when new to a city as culturally rich as Paris. Before moving here, I lowered my expectations regarding almost every aspect of the city—from their administrative processes to the weather to the men—in order to come in with a flexible mindset. The writing part, however, I still romanticized deep inside. I pictured myself discovering a hidden passageway during a leisurely stroll or observing passersby from the terrace of a café, and then having the words flow out of me once I got back to my apartment. The first half, I did, but the second half, the stringing together of words for my own personal pleasure, proved to be rather difficult.
My creative writing skills came out in the excuses I would make: I have so much other things to do! I’m still adjusting to life here. Maybe if I just head out to grab coffee... While I had no problems with writing assignments for work, there was more pressure when it came to personal writing. But after two months of adjusting to life here, I am realizing that it is not a requirement to have it “figured out” before taking pleasure in writing this newsletter. I mean, one of the very reasons I started this in the first place was to have a creative outlet. So why was I stressing out about it?
We are continuously a work in progress. It is sometimes easy to forget this when we are blinded by certain things that we want to achieve. This quote on writing by Mason Curry of the newsletter Subtle Maneuvers is a good reminder of starting from where we are in the present moment:
That’s it, that’s the secret: Do the best you can with the tools you have. It sounds so obvious, I know—but I also know that a lot of us feel like we should somehow be ahead of where we are now. There’s a reason people warn you against getting ahead of yourself. You have to start where you are, and muddle your way forward from there. And if you remain alive to all the difficulties and possibilities of that process, I think growth is inevitable.
In connection to this, I also want to include this beautiful quote from Albert Camus’ essay “Nupitals at Tipasa,” which made me emotional when I first read it the other week:
I love this life with abandon and wish to speak of it boldly: it makes me proud of my human condition. Yet people have often told me: there’s nothing to be proud of. Yes, there is: this sun, this sea, my heart leaping with youth, the salt taste of my body and this vast landscape in which tenderness and glory merge in blue and yellow. It is to conquer this that I need my strength and my resources. Everything here leaves me intact, I surrender nothing of myself, and don no mask: learning patiently and arduously how to live is enough for me.
“La liberté est difficile,” my French teacher remarked when he asked the class to come up with a sentence in French—any sentence—to start off an icebreaker and nobody could immediately come up with an example. Coming to Paris, where the pandemic situation seems to be much more controlled compared to Manila (at least for now), could be compared to this statement about freedom. I was suddenly free to do certain things that were taken away from me a year an a half ago. And so I ended up doing those things and neglecting this newsletter for a bit, and then getting frustrated over the fact that I neglected this newsletter. Something I will try to do less of, I promise.
xx
Recommendations of the week
These croissants from Bacillus, a boulangerie I recently discovered.
Loving Your Job Is a Capitalist Trap on The Atlantic.
A fun read: An Unromantic History of Kissing by Evan Silver, as featured on Roxane Gay’s newsletter.
An interview on attachment theory in Ask Polly.
I am also going to be shameless by linking my latest article on MEGA here.
Until next time!