I met up with some friends last night for boba and headed home at around midnight. It usually makes me feel pretty antsy—driving home with no cars around in suburbia. Binging Pretty Little Liars hasn’t helped because now I always feel like A is watching. Yet, driving home in the dark reminds me so much of senior year in high school, when my friends and I would study at Nest Tea House until closing. I’d play Billie Eilish and BENEE on my “cavity” playlist on the way home and look for the moon (while practicing safe driving) in the sky.
All of this is to say that when I was driving home post-boba, the moon was humongous. One of the most startlingly beautiful I had seen in a long time. It was in its waning gibbous phase, hanging so low I felt like it could have been at eye-level, and a deep yellow. I saw it and immediately whispered, “Subhanallah, subhanallah, subhanallah, subhanallah.”
When I got home, my mom was still awake, so I dragged her outside to see it. She hastily wrapped her favorite white orna around her head, still in her pajamas, and we left (after saying goodbye to Meatball).
I wouldn’t consider myself very similar to Ma. If any of you have ever met her, she is sprightly, funny, apophenic, and so extroverted. Like her, though, I subconsciously find meaning in everything (she claimed that it was fated that I would go to Hopkins because my binder was a similar blue). I think it’s because artistry runs in the family; her father was a philosopher and loved to write. He passed away a month before I was born, so my mom is convinced I got the writing pull from him.
One thing my mom and I do have in common, though, is our love for the moon. I know this because when I took her outside and she caught sight of it, she said, “Subhanallah, subhanallah, subhanallah, subhanallah.”
How I Read Even Though No One Asked
Things Needed (NON-NEGOTIABLE):
Book of choice. Right now, I’m reading Babel by R.F. Kuang, The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, and Post-Colonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz. I almost always am reading multiple books at a time. I should also note that Ayn Rand sucks for a myriad of reasons but that I checked her book out from a library and that she has passed away, so. I should also note, disappointingly, that The Fountainhead is very good.
Writing instrument of choice. If it’s my own book, I love the Sharpie Needle Precision Point Black Ink Rollerball Pen (0.5mm). Now that I’ve renewed my Arcadia Public Library card, I’ve been using a Faber-Castell 9000 4B drawing pencil. I found it in my room and chose it because it was the pointiest.
Laptop preferred. For access to the Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English Online. The BEST dictionary. I feel very strongly about this and will not hear contesting opinions. Sometimes I use my phone when I don’t have access to my laptop, but the font is too small, and I don’t love to use it.
Unlined Journal. To jot down sentences/phrases I liked, words and their meanings, etc.
Things Needed Sometimes:
Headphones. Binaural Beats or Jazz. But sometimes I get overstimulated and it’s better for me to listen to the noise around me.
Writer’s Note: HUGE SPIDER. Too scared to go back into room now.
🕷️