Maybe if I Just.

It has been a minute since the last update.

I am very a little disappointed in myself for not writing as much. This is my creative outlet and I know i haven’t been creating lately. Bleh. I made an awkward promise to myself today to not to neglect the writing. After all, you can’t nurture the craft if you don’t practice. And I should nurture this, because writing is the happy place. And I’ve no reason not to. Even if this turns into a personal headspace of random thoughts sans direction, it is, at the very least, an exercise in discipline. So here goes the promise.

Read on, lovelies.

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he was like a big dusty summertime thundershower with sheets of crisp refreshing rain

(Life update) apologies for the long pause.

My first 6 months in Asia have been a whirlwind of unique experiences. Summers in Southeast Asia are strange – always warm, like an uncomfortable hug from an old acquaintance.

Much of May and June were spent in varying degrees of happiness, sadness, and indifference. About life, about what to do next. Who I was with, not with. The what-ifs and buts of a path I couldn’t be sure about.

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1.5 months in Yangon, Myanmar

It was sitting by the lakeside pier of Bogyoke Park when I finally pull my phone from my lap to draft this. The water was flowing in smooth curtains under the rise and fall of the densely green waves adorned with lily pads and the occasional birds flying by to touch the water; their long beaks diving over hoping to pull up food.

The trees lining the park are so richly green and dense – something my eyes have never seen outside of Yangon. Green and yellow hues as far as one can see. The humidity presses skin deep, with droplets of water forming on my skin. The sky is a rich grey, clouds moving to signify the impending storm. I feel the weight of the past 2 days breaking me silently inside, a deep rooted fear that’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The heaviness feels exactly the way the sky looks, and the weight feels heavier the further I carry it. My heart has stopped looking for him, or expecting him to come around a corner laughing or explaining something in his careful, ardent way. It’s an ache that slips to the surface whenever I look through our photos of happier times.

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Always You.

jennifer ngan photography
When I leave, i will bring your words with me. I will store it in my heart space. 
Maybe one day it’ll make sense. 
But for now, I might be gone for a little while. And it’ll be okay. For now, I will let you go. For I have held on too long. 

Today, I am finding love in old things. The scent of pine, tall trees and the mountain air. Details from the natural world, voluminous in its silent echoes. The strength of quiet. Of you. Always you. 

Which you are. 

But not.

Quite.

Your words, repetitive and golden though always a sound of tiredness and exhaust. Perhaps you are lonely. Maybe you like solitude. Woods and trees. A mystery you are.  Always you.

Like a sad song that’s played, my days will go on. Without you here. 

or there.

My sense of being, may it let you go. I bare my heart,  beating wildly, for you to notice. But you don’t. You don’t really care. It’s all superficial. And it’s okay. It’s always okay. I will always bare my heart to you. I know. Always you. 

I’ll see you later, I suppose. I’m running away, resisting. I don’t want to. Part of me knows that when I leave this place, it will be hard to look back. And maybe I will lie. I will tell you how great it is without you. The mountain air, clear and crisp, pockets of cold. I’ll write you a letter. Maybe from afar. I’ll think of you often. Always you.

I Would Like to Forget You


An effortless being you must be, clouded in your beliefs of existence. Your steady silence and patience, a form of a strength which i cannot and will not define, speaks volumes in non-speak. I gravitate toward you. A magnetic pull of which defies explaination.
I don’t know you enough. But I want to say I love you. But I do not, maybe not. I would like to know you. It seemed like a whole lifetime before I got to say hello. Now it’s goodbye.

A pull from you, like strong currents from ocean waves, I melt to you. Completely. A conscious thought of wonderment. You are, without a doubt, a mystery shrouded in wholeness.

You taught me, again and again, not to dream of you. A poignant message, however keen.  For what is life, if life without you?

Perhaps you are hiding from me, unwilling to admit. Illicit imagery, a taste of the edge. A budding charm of a life uncertain. A cloud of confusion, retaliating your thoughts and beliefs. Your heart. Your being. To be. Very simply, as you say. But not so simply, when thoughts of me pervade you.

I would like to thank you, for clarifying to me what love is not. You were a misstep in my judgement, a will of strength to which I must let go. Because you are not who I thought.

I would like to forget you.

And I will, one day, melt to you less. And less. For you are not worth melting for.

There will be a time when I would like to love fully. Completely. For what you are is merely a means to an end. A hazy cloud of what it might’ve been, had it been. If. Though the end does not justify the means.

And it’s okay.

On Life

Chasing the Sun / Jennifer Ngan
Chasing the Sun // Jennifer Ngan

On Unpacking

There is still a mountain of tees and shorts unloaded from my weekend duffel. A mismatched variety of light sweaters, a polka dotty not-worn swimsuit and a bunch of yoga bottoms. I feel so lucky to have gone on short trips every month. Drove up and down the coast of California, spent days breathing in the mountain air, watched a million stars in the desert, and sat in the midst of a powerful waterfall in the middle of nowhere. Those lungfuls of clean air well worth the clutter that’s overflowing on my floor.

On Work

The past few weeks have been particularly stressful. With so many things going on, I feel lucky to step out at noon for a short yoga sesh. I am also really hard on myself when I make mistakes, and I feel like I’m letting people down. My backlog is growing to the point of no return. There’s never enough time in the day to take care of everything. I have been trying to meditate but I can’t seem to do it without a guide. Since I don’t actually have a guide, i’ve been using the Headspace app. I have not yet developed an opinion, but will get back to you.

On Things

This year has been the year of mostly no-buy’s. I have been investing on interest me, like a camera, a couple of better quality lenses. In surveying my shopping habits, I’ve not really made any thoughtless purchases. My closet inventory has stayed mostly the same and I’ve organized and reorganized and realized it’s not so much that it’s important, but rather, how it makes me feel. I haven’t had a desire to load up my virtual shopping cart. I don’t regret it either. Though I am always in the market for quality leather booties 😉

On Health

I’ve been eating more healthier and being more mindful to how my body feels. During my time of the month, I get debilitating cramps that are so horrible I usually have to take a day off from work. This past month I spent a whole weekend bedridden and basically dying. I kept thinking, “this is it. This is it….GAWD.” I finally made an appt to see a doctor tomorrow, to get tested for endometriosis. I guess part of me would feel relieved if I have it so that it could explain my pain but at the same time I hope it isn’t and this whole excruciating pain thing could be dealt with holistically.

On Blogging/Writing/Photograpy

I used to carry a notebook with me to scribble incoherent, muddled thoughts and words. But now I do everything on my phone because I could snap a photo, write a couple of phrases, slap on some adjectives. I thought about coming up with a blogging schedule so that I could write constantly and consistently but many times inspiration don’t arise due to exhaustion or lack of words. A lot of the times I get a lot of inspiration while driving but it’s hard to recall that fleeting moment that passes. It’s not the same later. Perhaps I am overthinking it. I really am hard on myself when it comes to these things – matters of the heart (in writing and photography). I am still trying to find the right balance between writing intentionally and just writing a lot. But, as with all things, must give it time.

I Know That Starting Over Isn’t What Life’s All About

lassen volcanic park
lassen volcanic park

When I was eleven I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to write memoirs for interesting people and be swept away by their amazing life tales. I wanted to write about their leathery skin and smile lines, rich and deep from laughter and sun. A life well lived one would think, and far from my very own.

When I was fifteen, I wanted to be a dancer, lithe and long and beautiful. I stretched and practiced every night for months and months.

When I was eighteen, I wanted to become a journalist, covering stories about the human experience and the struggles for humanity.

When I was twenty three, I still wanted to be a writer. I wanted to write creatively, freely.

I still do, today. Writing has always been my escape in life. After a particularly hard day, the words write itself.

I realized that I wrote daily because I craved self discovery and self knowledge. I am fascinated by feelings. A passion to discover, a passion to record, a passion to study, to create, to write.

I write to feel. I write to admit to myself what I cannot say. I stylize my writings because I like it, and because it helps me interpret the complex. I write vaguely because it helps me sort out my thoughts.