There is this feeling of digital burnout from having so many calendars (Google, Outlook, Apple) and so many passwords, and data being stored in multiple browsers. I trust Safari more than Chrome, but the browsing data does not transfer to Microsoft’s Edge when working on my work computer. Files are scattered in OneDrive, iCloud, Google Drive, and countless flash drives. So many systems to keep up. It is exhausting! Can we please return to pen and paper, snail mail, and physical folders?

Today I spent the afternoon cleaning and patching the walls of my bathroom and bedroom in preparation for the primer coat. You learn a hell of a lot about architecture and conservation by doing stuff like fixing your home.

Cleaning the walls, one becomes intimate with the apartment’s imperfections : the crooked wall indicating settling of the house, the holes of bygone nails that used to support artwork of a past tenant , the cracks from the expansion and contraction of the season, the blistering of paint from a hot-water heater.

The putty knife demands specific hand postures. A paint layer will not fill cracks beyond 1/16” and open windows help flush VOCs from the air.

Today I tried a swimming class with my local chapter of Master Swimming. I find swim training an essential activity, part of who I am. The mood, however, is in the nature to “just get by”, rather than a complimentary activity that adds on to a cumulative ball of successes.

Something magical happens when you are in the water. All your problems disappear and all that matters is the water and you. And your teammates. It is almost spiritual.

This evening I watched the first episode of the series “Dance Life”: a documentary of dancers competing to make it to the “Jazz 1” cohort at the Brent Street studio in Sydney. At the end of watching the episode, I was full of zest. Watching those dancers express themselves on the screen rejuvenated my evening: it was an antidote that changed the mood of my day from the burn out of the job. Should I make space for a beginner’s class in ballet or other foundational dancing class? I read somewhere that dancing is one of the best activities, if not THE best, to keep at bay depression and other mental illnesses. I am intrigued by the idea of discovering unknown skills in me, while at the same time to be humbled by experienced dancers. New beginnings.

I just spent my second night in my new apartment. I keep thinking of the precariousness of these first few nights. A new environment provides an opportunity to set new habits. The behaviors I set in place in the next few days will solidify in the course of weeks, like a river carving the earth that after years of activity form canyons.

I want this new home to be closer to what I consider the ideal home: a place for nourishment and replenishment. The hobbit Bilbo Baggins of The Lord of the Rings had nailed this aesthetic in his underground dwelling: warm lights, carpets, wooden floors, plenty of books, a fireplace, a kitchen full of baking and cooking… I would add to this a cat as companion, artwork, plants as deco, good chill music, and perhaps more importantly, an intentional absence of technology (phones, television, computer). All of the above seem doable to obtain, except the last one. Is absolute removal from sight the only option? Wondering what other alternatives may exist…

I just returned from a trip to Puerto Vallarta with a group of gay friends. I was invited at the last minute, and I decided to join because, why not? In this pod of friends we all share a professional background in addition to the gay label: an academic, a psychiatrist, a resident psychiatrist, a computer engineer, a business analyst, and a physician –if memory serves well. We all seem to lean towards the nerdy side of personality: we watched Lord of the Rings, played board games, and solved puzzles.

I often think about the influence that your group of friends have on you, and the influence you exert on them. It seems a bit odd on the presence of responsibility in friendship, and the pressure to keep up. During this trip I felt the least intelligent in the group, and I’ve learned to be increasingly comfortable with that. English is my second language, so I try to forgive and give myself some grace.

If you’re the smartest one in the room, you’re in the wrong room. You are better off surrounded by people more accomplished than you. Friendship provides a mirror of yourself: it makes clear your own limits and imperfections.

There is a passage from Robert Caro’s “The Power Broker” that describes the enthusiasm of young interns working for the Municipal Bureau of Research:

The students were filled with an espirit so strong that it seemed sometimes as if it must surely waft out the windows of 261 Broadway and melt some of the soot from the blackened granite of the Tweed Courthouse below. They believed in the importance of what they were doing; a half-century later, rheumy eyes would light up and smiles would curl corners of wrinkled lips as they talked about it, and they talked in terms old soldiers reserve for old battles. “How would I sum up what we were doing?” one would say. “We were fighting to make democracy work, that’s what we were doing!”

– The Power Broker, p. 63.

This passage makes me want to replicate the same spirit in the lab. “How would I sum up what we were doing? We were fighting to save old buildings and the planet itself!”

Yesterday I went to two plays: a Greek tragedy, and a musical adaptation of Cabaret. The first play recounts the Greek myth of Orpheous and Eurydices. The later was set in the decline of the Weimmar Republic. I was struck by how eloquent and charming, and handsome Orpheous was. The play featured screen projections that depicted the surreal transitions to and from the underworld.

The second play was my first time watching a cabaret. Cliff, the protagonist, is a writer from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, who has traveled to London and Paris on a journey to write a book. Cliff finds himself moving to Berlin in the hopes of finding fresh material.

In acting, it is your role to empathize with your character, put yourself in their shoes, and grow within it. But before you can grow in the character, you must experiment and know yourself: how do you come across, know how your audience perceives you, and in a constant feedback of how you act and how the world reacts to your acting.