In the midst of writing my second paper of the semester, I went searching for my forever elusive post-it tabs – got frustrated and decided to take five minutes to fix my table. Cleared off the notes that I used for my first paper, my Cantonese class and classes that I were auditing – and piled them all helter-skelter on my shelves.
Eyes ran over the mixed collection of books on my shelves, and sat down and looked around at the room that represented my life.
Books of all shapes and sizes, ranging from seal-script dictionaries, modern and contemporary literature and research books, huge art history books, popular English novels, imperial texts… personal letters and postcards slotted in between, a bottle of enchanted orchid moisturizer, all forms of stuff scattered on the floor, a pilates ball squeezed in a corner… notes with underlined and highlighted deadlines stuck on the wall together with an out-dated and forgotten list of stuff to do and a map of the area… journal books and boxes and photo frames tucked in various corners of the shelves…
Messy and yet so me…
And I found my post-it tabs behind the screen of my Macbook. Naturally the very last place I’ll think of looking…
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